REFUGE.
How bad I am, O Lord, Thou knowest,
Deserving naught that Thou bestowest,
But wandering each day
Astray.
Thy gifts are perfect, never ceasing,
The debt against me still increasing,
And yet I turn to flee
From Thee!
Oft when my path is dark and narrow
There flutters down some tiny sparrow
To tell me of that love
Above.
When daylight comes, I’m e’er forgetting
The message sweet; my sins besetting
Return, my soul to stain
Again.
And so I cling to Thee, my Saviour,
Despairing by my own behavior
To cleanse myself from sin
Within.
My cares I yield—for me Thou carest;
I take my cross—its weight Thou sharest
Henceforth my will be Thine,
Not mine.