The Sinner—Christ the Way of Life

1Thou Saviour of the sin-sick soul,
Thou Refuge in distress,
When doubt's dark billows near me roll,
Close to thy side I press.

2The burdened heart must seek in vain
For merit of its own;
There's freedom from each crimson stain
In thee, and thee alone.

3Let him who feels his load of guilt
Strive not its weight to bear;
The hopes that man or self hath built
Are doomed to dark despair.

4But thou, O Christ, whose blood was shed
For sinful men like me,
Wilt heal the load that bows the head
In deep contrition's hour!

5Thy tender heart has felt the weight
Of sins that were not thine,
And lo! within that conflict great
I view these sins of mine.

6'Tis faith that points them out to me
When, fainting 'neath the load,
I turn my longing eyes to thee,
Far up the narrow road.