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.