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1 Father, I stretch my hands to thee,
No other help I know:
If thou withdraw thyself from me,
Ah! whither shall I go!
2 What did thy only Son endure,
Before I drew my breath!
What pain, what labour to secure
My soul from endless death.
3 O Jesu, could I this believe,
I now should feel thy pow'r;
Now my poor soul thou wouldst retrieve
Nor let me wait one hour.
4 Author of faith, to thee I lift
My weary, longing eyes;
O let me now receive that gift;
My soul without it dies.
5 Surely thou canst not let me die!
O speak, and I shall live!
And here I will unwearied lie
Till thou thy spirit give.
6 The worst of sinners would rejoice,
Could they but see thy face;
O let me hear thy quick'ning voice,
And taste thy pard'ning grace.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Father, I stretch my hands to thee |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1788 |
Topic: | A Prayer for Faith |