When at Thy Footstool, Lord, I Bend
When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend,
And plead with Thee for mercy there,
Think of the sinner’s dying Friend,
And for His sake receive my prayer.
O think not of my shame and guilt,
My thousand stains of deepest dye;
Think of the blood which Jesus spilt,
And let that blood my pardon buy.
Think, Lord, how I am still Thine own,
The trembling creature of Thy hand;
Think how my heart to sin is prone,
And what temptations round me stand.
O think upon Thy holy Word,
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