From Depths of Woe I Raise to Thee

From depths of woe I raise to Thee

The voice of la­men­ta­tion;

Lord

turn a gra­cious ear to me

And hear my sup­pli­ca­tion;

If Thou ini­qui­ties dost mark

Our sec­ret sins and mis­deeds dark

O who shall stand be­fore Thee?

To wash away the crim­son stain

Grace

grace alone avail­eth;

Our works

alas! are all in vain;

In much the best life fail­eth:

No man can glo­ry in Thy sight

All must alike con­fess Thy might

And live alone by me­rcy.

Therefore my trust is in the Lord

And not in mine own mer­it;

On Him my soul shall rest

His Word

Upholds my faint­ing spir­it:

His pro­mised mer­cy is my fort

My com­fort

and my sweet sup­port;

I wait for it with pa­tience.

What though I wait the live­long night

And till the dawn ap­pear­eth

My heart still trust­eth in His might;

It doubt­eth not nor fear­eth:

Do thus

O ye of Is­ra­el’s seed

Ye of the Spir­it born in­deed;

And wait till God ap­pear­eth.

Though great our sins and sore our woes

His grace much more abound­eth;

His help­ing love no li­mit knows

Our ut­most need it sound­eth.

Our Shep­herd good and true is He

Who will at last His Is­ra­el free.

From all their sin and sor­row.