1 O Thou whose tender mercy hears
Contrition's humble sigh;
Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
From sorrow's weeping eye!

2 See, low before Thy throne of grace,
A wretched wanderer mourn;
Hast Thou not bide me seek Thy face?
Hast Thou not said, return?

3 And shall my guilty fears prevail,
To drive me from Thy feet?
O let not this dear refuge fail,
This only safe retreat.

4 Absent from Thee, my Guide, my Light,
Without one cheering ray,
Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night,
How desolate my way!

5 O shine on this benighted heart,
With beams of mercy shine;
And let Thy healing voice impart
A taste of joys divine.

6 Thy presence only, can bestow
Delights which never cloy;
Be this my solace here below,
And my eternal joy!