Classic Poem

I.

O Thou, whose tender mercy hears
 Contrition's humble sigh;
Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
 From sorrow's weeping eye:

II.

See! low before thy throne of grace
 A wretched wanderer mourn;
Hast thou not bid me seek thy face?
 Hast thou not said, Return?

III.

And shall my guilty fears prevail
 To drive me from thy feet?
O let not this dear refuge fail,
 This only safe retreat.

IV.

Absent from thee my guide, my light,
 Without one cheering ray,
Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night,
 How desolate my way!

V.

O shine on this benighted heart,
 With beams of mercy shine;
And let thy healing voice impart
 A taste of joys divine.

VI.

Thy presence only can bestow
 Delights which never cloy:
Be this my solace, here below,
 And my eternal joy.