O God of grace, of love immense,

O God of grace, of love immense,
How free thy favours to dispense!
I to thy mercy-seat repair,
Since thou hast said, "I'll meet thee there."

Thou seest my soul by sin oppressed;
O come, and give the weary rest;
My base backslidings kindly heal,
Apply the balm, thy love reveal.

Should I go mourning to the grave,
'Twere just; yet, Lord, from darkness save.
Does not thy tender word express,
"I will not leave you comfortless"?

Burst through the clouds, O Source of Light!
Let joy succeed the weeping night;
Thy beams shall make my desert blow,
The fruit appear, the spices flow.

What thou hast promised I implore,
Supplies from thy exhaustless store.
O righteous Father, just and true,
Give me both grace and glory too.