Hymn CCVI. Common Metre. The Contrite Heart

O THOU, whose tender mercy hears Contrition's humble sigh, Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears From sorrow's weeping eye.

See! low before thy throne of grace, A wretched wanderer mourn, Hast thou not bid me seek thy face? Hast thou not said, return?

And shall my guilty fears prevail, To drive me from thy feet? O let not this dear refuge fail, This only safe retreat.

Absent from thee, my guide, my light. Without one cheering ray, Thro' dangers, fears and gloomy night, How desolate my way!

O shine on this benighted heart, With beams of mercy shine; And let thy healing voice impart A taste of joys divine.

Thy presence only can bestow, Delights which never cloy; Be this my comfort here below, And my eternal joy.