O Thou who dost to man ac­cord
His high­est prize, his best re­ward,
Thou hope of all our race;
Jesu, to Thee we now draw near,
Our ear­nest sup­pli­ca­tions hear,
Who hum­bly seek Thy face.

With self ac­cus­ing voice with­in,
Our con­science tells of ma­ny a sin
In thought, and word, and deed:
O cleanse that con­science from all stain,
The pe­ni­tent re­store again,
From ev­ery bur­den freed.

If Thou reject us, who shall give
Our faint­ing spir­its strength to live?
’Tis Thine alone to spare;
With cleans­èd hearts to pray aright,
And find ac­cept­ance in Thy sight,
Be this our low­ly pray­er.

’Tis Thou has blest this so­lemn fast;
So may its days by us be passed
In self con­trol se­vere,
That, when our East­er morn we hail
Its mys­tic feast we may not fail
To keep with con­science clear.

O bless­èd Tri­ni­ty, be­stow
Thy par­don­ing grace on us be­low,
And shield us ev­er­more;
Until, with­in Thy courts above,
We see Thy face, and sing Thy love,
And with Thy saints ad­ore.