1 O Thou, the contrite sinners' Friend!
Who, loving, lov'st them to the end,
On this alone my hopes depend,
That Thou wilt plead for me.

2 When weary in the Christian race,
Far off appears my resting-place,
And, fainting, I mistrust Thy grace,
Then, Saviour, plead for me.

3 When I have err'd and gone astray,
Afar from Thine and wisdom's way,
And see no glimmering, guiding way,
Still, Saviour, plead for me.

4 When Satan, by my sins made bold,
Strives from Thy cross to loose my hold,
Then with Thy pitying arms enfold,
And plead, oh, plead for me!

5 And when my dying hour draws near,
Darken'd with anguish, guilt and fear,
Then to my fainting sight appear,
Pleading in heaven for me.

6 When the full light of heavenly day
Reveals my sins in dread array,
Say thou hast wash'd them all away;
Oh, say Thou plead'st for me!