| Approach, my soul, the mercy seat,Where Jesus answers prayer;
 There humbly fall before His feet,
 For none can perish there.
 Thy promise is my only plea,With this I venture nigh;
 Thou callest burdened souls to Thee,
 And such, O Lord, am I.
 Bowed down beneath a load of sin,By Satan sorely pressed,
 By war without and fears within,
 I come to Thee for rest.
 Be Thou my Shield and hiding Place,That, sheltered by Thy side,
 I may my fierce accuser face,
 And tell him Thou hast died!
 O wondrous love! to bleed and die,To bear the cross and shame,
 That guilty sinners, such as I,
 Might plead Thy gracious Name.
 “Poor tempest-tossèd soul, be still;My promised grace receive”;
 ’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will,
 I can, I do believe.
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