Weary of Earth, and Laden with My Sin

Weary of earth

and la­den with my sin

I look at Heav’n and long to en­ter in

But there no ev­il thing may find a home—

And yet I hear a voice that bids me Come.

So vile I am

how dare I hope to stand

In the pure glo­ry of that ho­ly land?

Before the white­ness of that throne ap­pear?

Yet there are hands stretched out to draw me near.

The while I fain would tread the heav’n­ly way

Seems ev­il ev­er with me day by day;

Yet on mine ears the gra­cious tid­ings fall

Repent

con­fess

thou shalt be loosed from all.

It is the voice of Je­sus that I hear!

His are the hands stretched out to draw me near

And His the blood that can for all atone

And set me fault­less there be­fore the throne.

’Twas He who found me on the death­ly wild

And made me heir of Heav’n

the Fa­ther’s child

And day by day

where­by my soul may live

Giveth His grace of par­don

and will give.

O great Ab­solv­er! grant my soul may wear

The low­li­est garb of pe­ni­tence and pray­er

That in the Fa­ther’s courts my glo­ri­ous dress

May be the gar­ment of Thy right­eous­ness.

Yea

Thou wilt an­swer for me

righ­teous Lord!

Thine all the mer­its

mine the great re­ward;

Thine the sharp thorns

and mine the gold­en crown;

Mine the life won

and Thine the life laid down!

Naught can I bring

dear Lord

for all I owe

Yet let my full heart

what it can

be­stow;

Like that sweet nard

let my de­vo­tion prove

Greatly for­giv­en

how great­ly I love.