O THOU, the contrite sinner’s Friend, Who, loving, lovest to the end, On this alone my hopes depend, That Thou wilt plead for me.
When, weary in the Christian race, Far off appears my resting-place, And, fainting, I mistrust Thy grace, Then, Saviour, plead for me.
When I have erred and gone astray, Afar from Thine and wisdom’s way, And see no glimmering, guiding ray, Still, Saviour, plead for me.
When Satan, by my sins made bold, Strives from Thy Cross to loose my hold, Then with Thy pitying arms enfold, And plead, O, plead for me.
And when my dying hours draw near, Darkened with anguish, guilt and fear, Then to my fainting sight appear, Pleading in Heaven for me.
When the full light of heavenly day Reveals my sins in dread array, Say, Thou hast washed them all away; Dear Saviour, plead for me.
Charlotte Elliott, 1789-1871