Preparation for Death, 58

Lo, on the margin of the grave,
Jesus, omnipotent to save,
On Thee for help I call;
Sinking into the dust of death,
O might I find Thy arms beneath,
And on Thy bosom fall.

Reject me not, because I fear,
But rather a lost sinner cheer
Who trembles at Thy word:
The power of faith I do not prove,
And by the Spirit of Thy love
I cannot call Thee Lord.

Thy favour how shall I obtain,
Thine image and Thy life regain,
In purest love renew'd?
Answer, Thou heavenly Man of woe,
The tokens of Thy passion show,
And wash me in Thy blood.

Without that sense of pardoning grace,
Without that real holiness,
O where shall I appear?
They only can contemplate Thee,
And face to face their Saviour see,
Who bear Thy character.

Thy blood, which did my pardon buy,
That, only that can sanctify
This poor polluted heart;
Cleansed in Thy blood my soul shall shine,
Adorn'd with righteousness Divine,
And ready to depart.

Remembering then Thy mortal pain,
Receive me saved, and born again,
Thy dearly purchased prize;
By faith to full salvation keep,
Till in Thy arms I fall asleep,
And wake in paradise.