Thou Saviour of the sin-sick soul
1
Thou Saviour of the sin-sick soul,Thou Refuge in distress,When doubt's dark billows near me roll,Close to thy side I press.
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The burdened heart must seek in vainFor merit of its own;There 's freedom from each crimson stainIn thee, and thee alone.
3
Let him who feels his load of guiltStrive not its weight to bear;The hopes that man on self has builtAre doomed to dark despair.
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But thou, O Christ, whose blood was shedFor all who plead its power,Wilt lift the load that bows the headIn deep contrition's hour!
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Thy tender heart has felt the weightOf sins that were not thine,And lo! within that burden greatI view these sins of mine.
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'T is faith that points them out to meWhen, fainting 'neath the load,I turn my longing eyes to thee,Far up the narrow road.