O thou, the contrite sinners' Friend

O thou the contrite sinner's friend,
who, loving, lov'st them to the end,
on this alone my hopes depend:
that thou wilt plead for me.

When, weary in the Christian race,
far off appears my resting-place,
and, fainting, I mistrust thy grace,
then, Savior, plead for me.

When I have erred and gone astray
afar from thine and wisdom's way,
and see no glimmering, guiding ray,
still, Savior, plead for me.

When Satan, by my sins made bold,
strives from thy cross to loose my hold,
then with thy pitying arms enfold,
and plead, O plead for me!

And when my dying hour draws near,
o'ercast with sorrow, pain and fear,
then to my fainting sight appear,
pleading in heaven for me.

Words: Charlotte Elliott, 1835

Music: Isleworth, Erskine

Meter: 88 86

Website compiled by Steve Benner, 1999-2003.