And wilt Thou yet be found?
And may I still draw near?
Then list­en to the plaint­ive sound
Of a poor sin­ner’s pray­er.

Jesu, Thine aid af­ford,
If still the same Thou art;
To Thee I look, to Thee, my Lord,
Lift up a help­less heart.

Thou seest my tor­tured breast,
The strug­glings of my will,
The foes that in­ter­rupt my rest,
The ago­nies I feel:

The dai­ly death I prove,
Savior, to Thee is known;
’Tis worse than death, my God to love,
And not my God alone.

My peev­ish pas­sions chide,
Who only canst con­trol,
Canst turn the stream of na­ture’s tide,
And calm my troubled soul.

O my of­fend­ed Lord,
Restore my in­ward peace;
I know Thou canst: Pro­nounce the word,
And bid the tem­pest cease.

Abate the purg­ing fire,
And draw me to my good;
Allay the fe­ver of de­sire,
By sprink­ling me with blood.

I long to see Thy face,
Thy Spi­rit I implore,
The liv­ing water of Thy grace,
That I may thirst no more.

When shall Thy love con­strain
And force me to Thy breast?
When shall my soul re­turn again
To her eter­nal rest?

Ah! what avails my strife,
My wan­der­ing to and fro?
Thou hast the words of end­less life,
Ah! whi­ther should I go?

Thy con­des­cend­ing grace
To me did free­ly move;
It calls me still to seek Thy face,
And stoops to ask my love.

Lord, at Thy feet I fall,
I groan to be set free,
I fain would now ob­ey the call,
And give up all for Thee.

To res­cue me from woe,
Thou didst with all things part,
Didst lead a suf­fer­ing life be­low,
To gain my worth­less heart:

My worth­less heart to again,
The God of all that breathe
Was found in fa­shion as a man,
And died a curs­èd death.

And can I yet de­lay
My lit­tle all to give?
To tear my soul from earth away
For Je­sus to re­ceive?

Nay, but I yield, I yield!
I can hold out no more;
I sink, by dy­ing love com­pelled,
And own Thee Conq­uer­or.

Though late, I all for­sake;
My friends, my life re­sign;
Gracious Re­deem­er, take, O take,
And seal me ev­er Thine!

Come, and pos­sess me whole,
Nor hence again re­move;
Settle and fix my wa­ver­ing soul
With all Thy weight of love.

My one de­sire be this,
Thy on­ly love to know,
To seek and taste no oth­er bliss,
No other good be­low.

My life, my por­tion Thou,
Thou all-suf­fi­cient art,
My hope, my hea­ven­ly trea­sure, now
Enter, and keep my heart.

Rather than let it burn
For earth, O quench its heat;
Then, when it would to earth re­turn,
O let it cease to beat.

Snatch me from ill to come,
When I from Thee would fly,
O take my wan­der­ing spi­rit home,
And grant me then to die!