Approach, my soul, the mercy seat, Where Jesus answers prayer; There humbly fall before His feet, For none can perish there. Thy promise is my only plea, With this I venture nigh; Thou callest burdened souls to Thee, And such, O Lord, am I. Bowed down beneath a load of sin, By Satan sorely pressed, By war without and fears within, I come to Thee for rest. Be Thou my Shield and hiding Place, That, sheltered by Thy side, I may my fierce accuser face, And tell him Thou hast died! O wondrous love! to bleed and die, To bear the cross and shame, That guilty sinners, such as I, Might plead Thy gracious Name. “Poor tempest-tossèd soul, be still; My promised grace receive”; ’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will, I can, I do believe. |