Prostrate, Dear Jesus, At Thy Feet,
A Guilty Rebel Lies;
And Upwards To Thy Mercy Seat,
Presumes To Lift His Eyes.

If Tears Of Sorrow Would Suffice
To Pay The Debt I Owe,
Tears Should From Both My Weeping Eyes
In Ceaseless Torrents Flow.

But No Such Sacrifice I Plead
To Expiate My Guilt;
No Tears But Those Which Thou Hast Shed
No Blood, But Thou Hast Spilt.

Think Of Thy Sorrows, Dearest Lord,
And All My Sins Forgive:
Justice Will Well Approve The Word
That Bids The Sinner Live.