Alas! my God! my sins are great,
My conscience doth upbraid me;
And now I find that at my strait
No man hath power to aid me.

And fled I hence, in my despair,
In some lone spot to hide me,
My griefs would still be with me there,
Thy hand still hold and guide me.

Nay, Thee I seek—I merit naught,
Yet pity and restore me;
Be not Thy wrath, just God, my lot,
Thy Son hath suffered for me.

If pain and woe must follow sin,
Then be my path still rougher,
Here spare me not; if Heaven I win,
On earth I gladly suffer.

But curb my heart, forgive my guilt,
Make Thou my patience firmer,
For they must miss the good Thou wilt,
Who at Thy teachings murmur.

Then deal with me as seems Thee best,
Thy grace will help me bear it,
If but at last I see Thy rest,
And with my Savior share it.

O the darkness, O the sorrow,
O the misery of sin!
When will dawn the promised morrow
That shall bring deliverance in?

One there was ordained to languish,
Guiltless, in Gethsemane;
One there was Who died in anguish
Innocent, on Calvary.

Jesus was the Burden-bearer,
God’s own Son the Sacrifice;
Of the griefs of man the Sharer,
Of his soul the Ransom-price.

’Tis the Christ, the Ever-living,
Ever-loving, Ever-blest,
By the Comforter still giving
Pardon, holiness, and rest.

Can the love so freely given,
Can the blood so freely shed,
Fail to draw the earth to Heaven,
Fail to bring alive its dead?

Rise, O children of the Father,
Stand, ye brothers of the Son,
In unyielding ranks together
Till the crown of Christ be won;

Till the lands of sin and sorrow,
Darker than the ancient night,
Shall behold the promised morrow
Beam on them with saving light.