Behold the throne of grace!
The pro­mise calls us near;
There Je­sus shows a smil­ing face
And waits to an­swer pray­er.

That rich aton­ing blood,
Which sprin­kled round I see;
Provides for those who come to God,
An all pre­vail­ing plea.

My soul, ask what thou wilt,
Thou canst not be too bold;
Since His on blood for thee He spilt,
What else can He with­hold?

Beyond thy ut­most ants
His love and po­wer can bless;
To pray­ing souls He al­ways grants,
More than they can ex­press.

Since ’tis the Lord’s com­mand,
My mouth I op­en wide;
Lord op­en Thou Thy boun­teous hand,
That I may be sup­plied.

Thine im­age, Lord, be­stow,
Thy pre­sence and Thy love;
I ask to serve Thee here be­low,
And reign with Thee above.

Teach me to live by faith,
Conform my will to Thine;
Let me vic­to­ri­ous be in death,
And then in glo­ry shine.

If Thou these bless­ings give,
And wilt my por­tion be;
Cheerful the world’s poor toys I leave,
To them who know not Thee.