Fourth Sunday in Lent

Low at Thy feet I lie,
O blessed Saviour mine.
Comfort me, or I die,
O, save me, I am thine!
Thine by the gift of life,
Thine by the grace of love,
O, save me through this strife
Till I am Thine above!

My soul is sick from sin.
Fears compass it about,
O, cleanse me from within,
And guard me from without:
To me Thy truth impart.
To me Thine ear incline
O, take me to Thy heart!
My Saviour! I am Thine.

In &st, and watch, and prayer.
My days and nights I'll spend.
If only I may share
Thy sorrows, dearest Friend;
For O, the bitter pain.
When any sin of mine
That blood-wash'd heart doth stain,
Which should be purely Thine.

I Shall not die but live,
And all Thy love declare.
So bountiful to give.
So merciful to spare;
My broken heart I'll rest.
My weary head recline.
My Saviour! on Thy breast,
And whisper, " I am Thine."