I am not what I ought to be,
The Word of God re­veals;
I am not what I might have been,
My heart with­in me feels.
I am not what I’ll sure­ly be
When I be­hold His face,
But what I am, I am thro’ Him,
And onl­y by His grace.

If there is any good in me,
It is not of my own;
If there is any grace it is
The grace of God alone.
My fault is mine, I blame it not
On any­one be­side;
The sin is mine, the grace alone
Is His, the Cru­ci­fied.

I trem­ble when I see my­self,
The man I might have been;
I dare not count im­pos­si­ble
The deep­est depths of sin.
The mean­est mortal whom I meet,
However how he be,
But for the sav­ing grace of God,
Might thus have been with me.

I know that God has more for me
Than I have ev­er dreamed,
Tho’ I be count­ed least among
The hosts of the re­deemed.
But whe­ther much or lit­tle of
That bless­ed­ness be mine,
I dare not count it mer­it­ed,
’Tis all of grace di­vine.

God’s grace is all my con­fi­dence,
His good­ness all my stay;
I stand up­on His prom­is­es—
He will not say me nay.
I trust no arm of flesh to save,
No mer­it of my own,
My faith ab­id­eth ev­er in
The grace of God alone.