1 O Thou whose tender mercy hears
Contrition's humble sigh;
Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
From sorrow's weeping eye!

2 See, low before Thy throne of grace,
A wretched wanderer mourn:
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face?
Hast Thou not said, "Return"?

3 Absent from Thee, my Guide, my Light,
Without one cheering ray,
Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night,
How desolate my way!

4 Oh, shine on this benighted heart,
With beams of mercy shine;
And let Thy healing voice impart
A taste of joys divine.