Text: | Penitential Sighs |
Author: | Dr. S. Stennett |
1 Father, at thy call I come;
In thy bosom there is room
For a guilty soul to hide,
Press'd with grief on every side.
2 Here I'll make my piteous moan;
Thou canst understand a groan:
Here my sins, and sorrows tell;
What I feel thou knowest well.
3 Ah! how foolish I have been,
To obey the voice of sin,
To forget thy love to me,
And to break my vows to thee.
4 Darkness fills my trembling soul,
Floods of sorrow o'er me roll:
Pity, Father pity, me;
All my hope's alone in thee.
5 But may such a wretch as I,
Self-condemn'd and doom'd to die,
Ever hope to be forgiven,
And be smil'd upon by heaven?
6 May I round thee cling and twine,
Call myself a child of thine,
And presume to claim a part
In a tender Father's heart?
7 Yes, I may, for I espy
Pity trickling from thine eye:
'Tis a father's bowels move,
Move with pardon, and with love.
8 Well I do remember too
What his love hath deign'd to do;
How he sent a savior down,
All my Follies to atone.
9 Has my elder Brother died?
And is justice satisfied?
Why,O why should I despair
Of my father's tender care?
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Father, at thy call I come |
Title: | Penitential Sighs |
Author: | Dr. S. Stennett |
Meter: | Sevens |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1792 |
Topic: | Graces of the Spirit: Repentance; Penitent sighs |
Notes: | Now Public Domain. |