1 Th'abyss of many a former sin
Encloses me, and bars me in:
Like billows my transgressions roll--
Be Thou the pilot of my soul;
And to salvation’s harbor bring,
Thou Savior and Thou glorious King!
2 My Father’s heritage abused,
Wasted by lust, by sin misused;
To shame and want and mis'ry brought,
The slave to many a fruitless thought:--
I cry to Thee, who lovest men,
O pity and receive again!
3 In hunger now, no more possessed
Of that my portion bright and blest,
The exile and the alien see,
Who yet would fain return to Thee!
Accept me, Lord, I seek Thy grace;
And let me see a Father's face!
4 With that blest thief my prayer I make,
Remember for Thy mercy’s sake!
With that poor publican I cry,
Be merciful, O God, most high!
With that lost prodigal I fain,
Back to my home would turn again!
5 Mourn, mourn, my soul, with earnest care,
And raise to Christ the contrite prayer;--
Oh, Thou who freely wast made poor,
My sorrows and my sins to cure,
Me, poor of all good works, embrace,
Enriching with Thy boundless grace!
Source: Hymnal for Church and Home (2nd ed.) #178
John M. Neale's life is a study in contrasts: born into an evangelical home, he had sympathies toward Rome; in perpetual ill health, he was incredibly productive; of scholarly temperament, he devoted much time to improving social conditions in his area; often ignored or despised by his contemporaries, he is lauded today for his contributions to the church and hymnody. Neale's gifts came to expression early–he won the Seatonian prize for religious poetry eleven times while a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, England. He was ordained in the Church of England in 1842, but ill health and his strong support of the Oxford Movement kept him from ordinary parish ministry. So Neale spent the years between 1846 and 1866 as a warden of Sackvi… Go to person page >
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