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tr., John Brownlie




O Jesus, when my guilty fears

My wakened soul distress,

And Judgment for the past appears

In all its awfulness,—

Bid gathering clouds asunder roll,

And shed Thy sunshine in my soul.


When from their long-forgotten grave

My guilty deeds arise,

And terror proves me yet the slave

My soul would fain despise,—

From stings of memory heal my soul,

And free me from sin’s dire control.


O Lord, in Whom my hope is set,

I look in faith to Thee;

From sin, and guilt, and sad regret,

My soul in mercy free;—

For, in that mercy, Lord, I trust,

And lie, repenting, in the dust.

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