Not what my hands have done can save my guilty soul; not what my toiling flesh has borne can make my spirit whole. Not what I feel or do can give me peace with God; not all my prayers and sighs and tears can bear my awful load.
Thy work alone, O Christ, can ease this weight of sin; thy blood alone, O Lamb of God, can give me peace within. Thy love to me, O God, not mine, O Lord, to thee, can rid me of this dark unrest, and set my spirit free.
Thy grace alone, O God, to me can pardon speak; thy pow'r alone, O Son of God, can this sore bondage break. No other work, save thine, no other blood will do; no strength, save that which is divine, can bear me safely through.
I bless the Christ of God; I rest on love divine; and with unfalt'ring lip and heart, I call this Savior mine. His cross dispels each doubt; I bury in his tomb each thought of unbelief and fear, each ling'ring shade of gloom.
I praise the God of grace; I trust his truth and might; he calls me his, I call him mine, my God, my joy, my light. 'Tis he who saveth me, and freely pardon gives; I love because he loveth me, I live because he lives.