Lord, I ap­proach, Thy mer­cy seat,
Where Thou dost an­swer pray­er;
There hum­bly fall be­fore Thy 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, my hid­ing place,
That, shel­tered near Thy side,
I may my fierce ac­cus­er face,
And tell him Thou hast died.