Thou Son of God, Whose Flaming Eyes

Thou Son of God

whose flam­ing eyes

Our in­most thoughts per­ceive

Accept the grate­ful sac­ri­fice

Which now to Thee we give.

We bow be­fore Thy gra­cious throne

And think our­selves sin­cere;

But show us

Lord

is ev­ery­one

Thy real wor­ship­er?

Is here a soul who knows Thee not

Nor feels his need of Thee;

A strang­er to the blood which bought

His par­don on the tree?

Convince him now of un­be­lief

His des­per­ate state ex­plain;

And his fill his heart with sac­red grief

And pe­ni­ten­tial pain.

Speak with that voice that wakes the dead

And bid the sleep­er rise

And bid his guil­ty con­science dread

The death that nev­er dies.

Extort the cry

“What must be done

To save a wretch like me?

How shall a trem­bling sin­ner shun

That end­less mi­se­ry?

“I must this in­stant now be­gin

Out of my sleep to wake

And turn to God

and ev­ery sin

Continually for­sake.

I must for faith in­ces­sant cry

And wres­tle

Lord

with Thee;

I must be born again

or die

To all eter­ni­ty.