Father, I Stretch My Hands To Thee,
No Other Help I Know;
If Thou Withdraw Thyself From Me,
Ah! Whither Shall I Go?
What Did Thine Only Son Endure,
Before I Drew My Breath!
What Pain, What Labor, To Secure
My Soul From Endless Death!
O Jesus, Could I This Believe,
I Now Should Feel Thy Power;
Now My Poor Soul Thou Wouldst Retrieve,
Nor Let Me Wait One Hour.
Surely Thou Canst Not Let Me Die;
O Speak, And I Shall Live;
And Here I Will Unwearied Lie,
Till Thou Thy Spirit Give.
Author Of Faith! To Thee I Lift
My Weary, Longing Eyes:
O Let Me Now Receive That Gift!
My Soul Without It Dies.
The Worst Of Sinners Would Rejoice,
Could They But See Thy Face:
O, Let Me Hear Thy Quickening Voice,
And Taste Thy Pardoning Grace.
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