Stretch Forth Thy Hand
by Anneliese M. Kvamme
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thirst! yet do not take the proferred cup Of wine or water, sent to cleanse my soul. My silent thoughts in my misdeeds bound up, In anguish cry my spirit be made whole. Ungrateful man! who knowing good from ill Yet chose to still ignore that whispering voice-- How can I hope to merit His grace still? Can stained hearts heal and once again rejoice? Oh, Lord, who died for me and all mankind, Look down upon my face bowed in despair. Help me to see, to know, and finally find The blessed peace that cometh by thy care. Stretch forth thy hand, that with thy perfect love I may be cleansed, to see thy face above. |