The Poor Sinner

God of my salvation, hear,

And help me to believe;

Simply do I now draw near,

Thy blessing to receive:

Full of guilt, alas! I am,

But to thy wounds for refuge flee:

Friend of sinners, spotless Lamb,

Thy blood was shed for me.

Standing now as newly slain,

To thee I lift mine eye,

Balm of all my grief and pain,

Thy blood is always nigh:

Now as yesterday the same

Thou art, and wilt for ever be:

Friend of sinners, spotless Lamb,

Thy blood was shed for me.

Nothing have I, Lord, to pay,

Nor can thy grace procure,

Empty send me not away,

For I, thou know'st am poor:

Dust and ashes is my name,

My all is sin and misery:

Friend of sinners, spotless Lamb,

Thy blood was shed for me.

No good word, or work, or thought,

Bring I to buy thy grace:

Pardon I accept unbought,

Thy proffer I embrace:

Coming, as at first I came,

To take, and not bestow on thee:

Friend of sinners, spotless Lamb,

Thy blood was shed for me.

Saviour from thy wounded side

I never will depart,

Here will I my spirit hide,

When I am pure in heart:

Till my place above I claim,

This only shall be all my plea,

Friend of sinners, spotless Lamb,

Thy blood was shed for me.