Here, O my God, low at Thy feet I bend me

Here, O my God, low at Thy feet I bend me,
Ready to suffer whatsoe'er Thou send me,
Yet look on me, great God, with pitying eyes,
Reward me not for mine iniquities.

My heart hath cherish'd sin, and fear'd no morrow,
Loved the broad, easy road that ends in sorrow;
Till now I learn, O sin, how keen thy smart,
O wrath of God, how terrible thou art!

Can I escape no I more? will no one find me
Some help to break the heavy chains that bind me?
Will man nor creature show me any place
Where I may flee and hide me from God's face?

Nay, I must flee to Him who can deliver,
In whom our life and hope are hid for ever;
What all the world must unaccomplish'd leave,
Thou, for Thou art Almighty, canst achieve.

Think on the covenant Thou hast never broken,
Think on the steadfast word Thyself hast spoken,
Know that I am a God, Thy promise saith,
Who hath no pleasure in a sinner's death.

Then let the arms of love be thrown around me
Have pity on me, Thou who thus hast found me,
Call back Thy sheep that, wandering far astray,
Was lost in sin, nor knew the homeward way.

O God, most merciful! my thankful spirit
Adores the goodness that I did not merit;
'T is meet in praising Thee my time I spend,
Here, and above, where praise shall never end.

Source: Chorale Book for England, The #45