I think about the past, and feel
I think about the past, and feel
My heart sink
hopelessly, and fears
Of judgment seize on me; I kneel
Before my God, and
own that years
And years of deep, dark, deadly
guilt
Are dragging down my
soul to hell.
I know the wretched hopes I’ve
built
Of
heaven, if His judgment fell
On me, would vanish as a dream:
Before the dreadful
judgment throne,
Such hopes, I know, though they
may seem
All fair and right,
when by our own
Poor godless hearts surveyed,
would all
But serve to prove
what godless hearts
We had, to cling to them at all.
O God, my life no
hope imparts,
And yet I scarcely dare to hope
In Thee. My heart is
like a stone;
My soul is dead; I blindly
grope,
And long for light.
And yet I own
It is not Thee, but only rest
And safety for my
soul, I seek,
My guilty soul. O God, at best
I’m godless, even
while I speak
To Thee! Not love but selfish
fear
It is that brings me
to Thy feet;
My wretched sins are far more dear
To me — but then,
Thy judgment-seat!
Ah! yes, I own, were there no
hell,
I would not seek Thy
heaven, O God;
A Father’s love is not the spell
That draws me, but
Thy judgment rod.
O God, I cannot ask for bread,
For bread, I know,
is children’s fare,
And I’m a dog; I bow my head,
And own I’m but a
dog:nor dare
I seek to claim a higher place;
I have no right to
children’s meat;
I only cast myself on grace,
I lay me prostrate
at Thy feet
O God, have mercy on my soul:
Before th’ eternal
night begins,
O save my dark and guilty soul;
Forgive my sins — O
God, my sins!
Hast Thou not given Thine only
Son
To bear my sins upon
the tree?
And wilt Thou now, when all is
done,
Refuse my God, to
pardon me?
And, O my God, hast thou not
said,
"He that
believeth on the Son
Hath life"? and I believe;
though red
Like crimson are my
sins, and one
By one they rise before me now,
Sins long forgotten,
and they fain
Would make me doubt Thy word:I
bow
My
head in shame:yet wilt Thou deign
To look on me? If I am lost,
I need a Saviour:
’tis for such
He came to die; and what a cost
To pay! ’tis not for
me to touch
That finished work of His, or
seek
To add a sigh, or
tear, or groan
Of mine to what He bore, or
speak
Of aught in me but
sin. Alone,
O Christ, Thou hadst to bear my
doom
To take my deep dark
curse on Thee,
And bear it all; and now there’s
room
For grace to pardon
even me.
Then look on me, my Father. Yes,
I call Thee Father,
for I know
Thy word is sure, and humbly
bless
The grace that
deigned to stoop so low,
That such as I can come to Thee,
And as a sinner
reconciled
By His most precious blood, for
me
Once shed, can know
that I’m Thy child.
Tis but a moment since I thought
There scarce was
hope for one like me;
I heeded not the love that
bought
Me with the blood of
Calvary.
Yet now I dare to look above
And call Thee
Father; though my heart’s
Defiled, my lips unclean — Thy
love
Has conquered fear —
though Satan’s darts
Fall thick around me, and within
I dare not look —
’tis like a sea
That cannot rest, and full of
sin—
I now can look away
to Thee,
And find in Thee my peace, nor
fear
To rest my trembling
sin-stained soul
Upon Thy word, and so draw near.
My Saviour’s blood
has made me whole.
I’m black and worthless, but I’m
Thine;
My God, I’m Thine;
to Thee I owe
My life, my life to Thee resign.
O teach Thy child in
life to show
Thy praises forth. I bless Thy
name;
I worship, magnify,
adore,
And praise Thy great and
glorious name;
O fill my soul yet
more and more
With praise to Thee. The
"miry clay"
Still clings to me,
and yet I raise
My triumph song and bless the
day:
O
fill my soul yet more with praise!