Penitential Sighs

1 Father! at thy call I come,
In thy bosom there is room
For a guilty soul to hide,--
Press'd with grief on every side.

2 Darkness fills my trembling soul;
Floods of sorrow o'er me roll;
Pity, Father! pity me;
All my hope's alone in thee.

3 But may such a wretch as I,--
Self-condemn'd and doom'd to die,--
Ever hope to be forgiven,
And be smil'd upon by heaven?

4 Yes, I may! for I espy
Pity trickling from thine eye:
'Tis a Father's bowels move,--
Move with pardon and with love.

5 Well I do remember, too,
What his love hath deign'd to do;
How he sent a Saviour down,
All my follies to atone.

6 Has my elder brother died?
And is justice satisfied?
Why,--oh, why--should I despair
Of my Father's tender care?

Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #256