Matthew 7: Now on the verge of life I cry

Now on the verge of life I cry,
Jesus, on me the grace bestow,
I tremble at the point to die,
Nor can, unless Thy love I know.
Enter into that holy place.
Or stand before Thy glorious face.
Be mindful of Thy promise Lord,
And think how short my time beneath,
Assure me by Thy pardoning word
That love hath quicker wings than death,
And speak, before I bow my head,
My soul from sin completely freed.

Thou bidd'st me ask, and while Thy word
Conveys the power to pray,
I ask the mercy of my Lord
To take my sins away:
The sins with which I cannot part
I pray Thee to remove.
And calm, and purify my heart
By Thy forgiving love.

If my obduracy impede
The current of Thy grace,
If unlamented crimes forbid
And will not let Thee bless;
The contrite sense, the grief Divine
Who only canst bestow.
Strike this hard rocky heart of mine.
And let the waters flow.

Repentance permanent and deep
To Thy poor suppliant give.
Indulge me at Thy feet to weep,
When Thou hast bid me live;
When Thou record'st my sins no more,
O may I still lament,
A sinner, saved by grace adore,
A pardon'd penitent.

Thou will'st Thy followers to request
Fulness of joy in Thee,
To covet gifts the chief, the best;
But grief seems best for me:
My sins I never can forget,
Even when Thy face appears.
Or covet but to kiss Thy feet.
And wash them with my tears.

I ask not aught whereof to boast,
But let me feel applied
The blood that ransom'd sinners lost,
And by Thy cross abide;
Myself the chief of sinners know.
Till all my griefs are pass'd,
And of my gracious acts below
Repentance be the last.