1 Gentle Jesus, Saviour mild,
Hear thy lowly suppliant child;
Nothing bring I to thy feet,
Naught for thine acceptance meet,
But a soul by sin distressed:
Gentle Jesus, give it rest.
2 In this dreary vale below
Thou hast trod a path of woe;
Thou hast known the dreadful power
Of the tempter’s evil hour;
Felt the time of gloom and fear;
Shed, like us, the bitter tear.
3 Now I bend before thy throne,
All my guilt and folly own;
Yet with earnest heart I plead,
Comfort, pardon in my need;
This my plea, and naught beside;
Gentle Jesus, thou hast died.