Come Lord Thyself With Thine Abounding Grace
Come, Lord, Thyself with Thine abounding grace;
Mine utmost depth of need Thine eyes can trace:
Thou, Lord, through life’s long way my Guard and Guide;
Let not Thy pilgrim’s last tired footsteps slide.
Upon my sight dark dawns the rising day;
Faint fall the sounds of earth, and far away:
None, none can aid;
by death’s lone, narrow door,
I pass beyond man’s help for evermore.
None, none can aid but Thou, Almighty Lord;
I stay me on Thine everlasting Word;
Let earth decay, heaven’s far-flung glories pale,
Jehovah’s plighted word can never fail.
Within the Eternal Arms I sink to rest,
Washed in the stream that flowed from Jesus’ breast:
The life Thou gavest, Father, now defend;
Into Thine Hands my spirit I commend.
Let the last psalm my dying voice can raise,
Extol Thy loving-kindness, hymn Thy praise:
Let the first notes my wakening lips can frame
Amid the eternal glory, laud Thy Name.
First, midst, and last, through that unclouded day,
I would my Saviour’s boundless grace display,
And swell the anthems of the ransomed host,
Adoring Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.