Weary of Earth

Weary of earth, and laden with my sin,

I look at heav'n and long to enter in;

But there no evil thing may find a home;

And yet I hear a voice that bids me come.

It is the voice of Jesus that I hear;

His are the hands stretched out to draw me near,

And His the blood that can for all atone,

And set me faultless there before the throne.

'Twas He who found me on the deathly wild,

And made me heir of heaven, the Father's child,

And day by day, whereby my soul may live,

Gives me His grace of pardon, and will give.

O great Absolver, grant my soul may wear

The lowliest garb of penitence and prayer,

That is Thy Father's courts my glorious dress

May be the garment of Thy righteousness.

Yea, Thou wilt answer for me, righteous Lord;

Thine all the merits, mine the great reward;

Thine the sharp thorns, and mine the golden crown,

Mine the life won, and Thine the life laid down.

Amen.