O Thou, that hear’st the pray­er of faith,
Wilt Thou not save a soul from death,
That casts it­self on Thee?
I have no re­fuge of my own,
But fly to what my Lord has done,
And suf­fered, once for me.

Slain in the guil­ty sin­ner’s stead,
His spot­less right­eous­ness I plead,
And His aton­ing blood:
Thy right­eous­ness my robe shall be,
Thy mer­it shall av­ail for me,
And bring me near to God.

Then snatch me from eter­nal death,
The Spir­it of ad­opt­ion breathe,
His con­so­la­tion send:
By Him some word of life im­part,
And sweetly whis­per to my heart,
Thy mak­er is thy friend.

The king of ter­rors then would be
A wel­come mes­sen­ger to me,
To bid me come away:
Unclogged by earth, or earth­ly things,
I’d mount, I’d fly with ea­ger wings,
To ev­er­last­ing day.