Classic Poem

HYMN XVII.

Wherewith shall I a sinful worm
Jehovah's holy place draw nigh?
With what oblations shall I bow
Before the throne of God most high?

Shall I burnt-offerings to him bring,
Calves taken from their tender dams?
Will God be pleas'd, if I should slay
A thousand and a thousand rams?

Shall I upon his altar pour
Rivers of oil ten thousand times;
Or my first-born an offering make,
To expiate my odious crimes?

No — — God is so incens'd by sin,
Such offerings all would be in vain;
Too mean to save the guilty soul,
And purge it from so foul a stain.

With broken heart and fervent cries,
Dear J ESUS , to thy cross I fly;
Tho other refuge fail, on thee
My soul with safety can rely.

The blood descending from thy wounds,
Becomes both oil and wine to ours;
No ease, till thy kind hand this balm
Into the wounded conscience pours.

As at thy table we behold
Thy all-sufficient sacrifice,
Let's feel the virtue of thy blood,
Which heals, and chears, and purifies.

So while thy sacred courts we tread,
To thee, O God, our life and joy,
We'll bring the sacrifice of praise,
In praise our hearts and tongues imploy.