Wide op­en are Thy hands,
Paying with more than gold
The aw­ful debt of guil­ty men,
Forever and of old.
Ah, let me grasp those hands,
That we may ne­ver part,
And let the pow­er of their blood
Sustain my faint­ing heart.

Wide op­en are Thine arms,
A fall­en world t’em­brace;
To take to love and end­less rest
Our whole for­sak­en race.
Lord, I am sad and poor,
But bound­less is Thy grace;
Give me the soul trans­form­ing joy
For which I seek Thy face.

Draw all my mind and heart
Up to Thy throne on high,
And let Thy sac­red cross ex­alt
My spir­it to the sky.
To these, Thy migh­ty hands,
My spir­it I re­sign;
Living, I live alone to Thee,
Dying, alone am Thine.