My God! O let me call Thee mine! Weak, wretched sinner though I be, My trembling soul would fain be Thine, My feeble faith still clings to Thee.

Come, come to Him who made thy heart; Come weary and oppressed; To come to Jesus is thy part; His part, to give thee rest.

Oh thou that bowest
Thy ecstatic face
Thy perfect sorrows
Are the world's to keep
Wherefore onto thy knees
Come we
With a prayer

My faith would lay her hand
On that dear head of Thine,
While like a penitent I stand,
And there confess my sin.

thy wretchedness weighs upon me, so that it to weep invites me.

The way is long and dreary, The path is bleak and bare; Our feet are worn and weary, But we will not despair; More weary was Thy burden, More desolate Thy ways, O Lamb of God, who takest The sin of the world away, Have mercy upon us.

And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

Break my hard heart,
Jesus my Lord;
In the inmost part
Hide Thy sweet word.

Guide Thou my hand within that hand of Thine —
Thy wounded hand! — until its tremblings take
Strength from Thy touch.

Come poor, lost, undone sinner, come just as you are to Christ.

O sacred head, now wounded,
With grief and shame bowed down; Now scornfully surrounded With thorns, thy only crown.

Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty;
Hold me with Thy powerful hand;
Bread of heaven!
Feed me till I want no more.

When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower of mercy.

When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song.

When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.

When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.