Jesus, the sin­ner’s friend, to Thee,
Lost and un­done, for aid I flee,
Weary of earth, my­self, and sin:
Open Thine arms, and take me in.

Pity and heal my sin sick soul;
’Tis Thou alone canst make me whole;
Dark, till in me Thine im­age shine,
And lost, I am, till Thou art mine.

At last I own it can­not be
That I should fit my­self for Thee:
Here, then, to Thee I all re­sign;
Thine is the work, and on­ly Thine.

What shall I say Thy grace to move?
Lord, I am sin, but Thou art love;
I give up ev­ery plea be­side—
Lord, I am lost, but Thou hast died.