From deepest woe I cry to thee

From deepest woe I cry to thee;
Lord, hear me, I implore thee!
Bend down thy gracious ear to me;
I lay my sins before thee.
If thou rememberest every sin,
if nought but just reward we win,
could we abide thy presence?

Thou grantest pardon through thy love;
thy grace alone availeth.
Our works could ne'er guild remove;
yea, e'en the best life faileth.
For none may boast themselves of aught,
but must confess thy grace that wrought
whate'er in them is worthy.

And thus my hope is in the Lord,
and not in my own merit;
I rest upon his faithful word
to them of contrite spirit.
That he is merciful and just,
here is my comfort and my trust;
his help I wait with patience.

Words: Martin Luther, 1524;
trans. Catherine Winkworth, 1863
as altered in The Hymnal 1982.
If you have Winkworth's original version, write me.

Music: Aus tiefer Not

Meter: 87 87 887

Website compiled by Steve Benner, 1999-2003.