1 Thou didst toil my soul to gain,
Didst redeem me with Thy pain,
Be such labor not in vain.
Thou just Judge of wrath severe,
Grant my sins remission here,
Ere Thy reckoning day appear.
My transgressions grievous are,
Scarce look up for shame I dare.
Lord, Thy guilty suppliant spare.

2 Thou didst heal the sinner’s grief,
And didst hear the dying thief—
Even I may hope relief.
All unworthy is my prayer;
Make my soul Thy mercy’s care,
And from fire eternal spare.
Place me with Thy sheep—that band
Who shall separated stand
From the goats, on Thy right hand.

3 When Thy voice in wrath shall say,
"Cursèd ones, depart away!"
Call me with the blest, I pray.
Lord, Thine ear in mercy bow;
Broken is my heart and low:
Guard of my last end be Thou.
In that day, that mournful day,
When to judgment wakes our clay,
Show me mercy, Lord, I pray.