Text: | The Soul flying to Christ for Rest |
Author: | Berridge |
1 No help in self I find,
And yet have sought it well;
The native treasure of my mind
Is sin, and death, and hell.
2 To Christ for help I fly,
The Friend of sinners lost,
A refuge sweet, and sure, and nigh,
And there is all my trust.
3 Lord, grant me free access
Unto thy piercèd side,
For there I seek my dwelling-place,
And there my guilt would hide.
4 In every time of need,
My helpless soul defend,
And save me from all evil deed,
And save me to the end.
5 And when the hour is near
That flesh and heart will fail,
Do thou in all thy grace appear,
And bid my faith prevail.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | No help in self I find |
Title: | The Soul flying to Christ for Rest |
Author: | Berridge |
Meter: | S. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1844 |