Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to thy Cross I cling; Naked, come to Thee for Dress, Helpless, look to Thee for grace; Vile, I to the fountain fly… - Augustus Toplady

Christ whose glory fills the skies,
Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise,
Triumph o'er the shades of night;
Day-spring from on high, be near,
Day-star in my heart appear.

In the present stages of spiritual experience, the believer's interior comfort, and his exterior lustre, greatly depend on the position of his heart toward the uncreated sun of righteousness. How obscure and benighted are our views, and how languid our exercise of grace, when an unbelieving, a worldly, or a careless spirit, interrupts our walk with God! But, if the out-goings of our souls are to him, and if the in-pourings of his blessed influence be felt, we glow, we kindle, we burn, we shine.

Not the labors of my hands Can fulfill thy Law's demands: Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears forever flow, All for Sin could not atone: Thou must save, and Thou alone!