English poem
My Name Is Jacob
by John Newton (1725–1807)
Nay, I cannot let thee go Till a blessing thou bestow: Do not turn away thy face, Mine’s an urgent, pressing case.
Dost thou ask me who I am? Ah, my Lord, thou know’st my name! Yet the question gives a plea To support my suit with thee.
Thou didst once a wretch behold, In rebellion blindly bold, Scorn thy grace, thy power defy, That poor rebel, Lord, was I.
Once a sinner near despair Sought thy mercy-seat by prayer; Mercy heard and set him free— Lord, that mercy came to me.
Many years have pass’d since then, Many changes I have seen, Yet have been upheld till now; Who could hold me up but thou?
Thou hast help’d in every need, This emboldens me to plead; After so much mercy past, Canst thou let me sink at last?
No—I must maintain my hold; ’Tis thy goodness makes me bold; I can no denial take, When I plead for Jesu’s sake.