Wherewith, O Lord, shall I draw near,
And bow my­self before Thy face?
How in Thy pur­er eyes a­ppear?
What shall I bring to gain Thy grace?

Whoe’er to Thee them­selves ap­prove
Must take the path Thy­self has showed;
Justice pur­sue, and mer­cy love,
And hum­bly walk by faith with God.

But though my life hence­forth be Thine,
Present for past can ne’er atone;
Though I to Thee the whole re­sign,
I on­ly give Thee back Thine own.

What have I then where­in to trust?
I no­thing have, I no­thing am;
Excluded is my ev­ery boast;
My glo­ry swal­lowed up in shame.

Guilty I stand be­fore Thy face;
On me I feel Thy wrath abide:
’Tis just the sen­tence should take place,
’Tis just—but O, Thy Son hath died!

Jesus, the Lamb of God, hath bled,
He bore our sins up­on the tree,
Beneath our curse He bowed His head,
’Tis fin­ished! He hath died for me!

For me I now be­lieve He died!
He made my ev­ery crime His own,
Fully for me He sa­tis­fied:
Father, well pleased be­hold Thy Son.

He ev­er lives for me to pray;
He prays that I with Him may reign;
Amen to what my Lord doth say!
Jesu, Thou canst not pray in vain.