O Thou, that hear’st the prayer of faith,
Wilt Thou not save a soul from death,
That casts itself on Thee?
I have no refuge of my own,
But fly to what my Lord has done,
And suffered, once for me.

Slain in the guilty sinner’s stead,
His spotless right­eous­ness I plead,
And His atoning blood:
Thy right­eous­ness my robe shall be,
Thy merit shall avail for me,
And bring me near to God.

Then snatch me from eter­nal death,
The Spi­rit of adoption breathe,
His consolation send:
By Him some word of life impart,
And sweetly whisper to my heart,
Thy maker is thy friend.

The king of terrors then would be
A welcome messenger to me,
To bid me come away:
Unclogged by earth, or earthly things,
I’d mount, I’d fly with eager wings,
To ev­er­last­ing day.