James: O Tuart I the souls could win

O Tuart I the souls could win
Wandering in the paths of sin,
Pluck out of the lion's teeth,
Save them from eternal death:
Make the prodigals arise,
Lift to heaven their heart and eyes,
Near the pit no longer stray,
Cast their hated sins away!

O might I, to sinners sent,
Mercy's chosen instrument,
Bring them back who did run well,
Snatch them from the mouth of hell;
Snatch, as brands out of the flame;
Rescue them in Jesu's name,
Show the fountain in His side,
Lead them to the Crucified!

Jesus, Thou my labours bless;
Then Thy hand by me shall seize,
Plunge them in the sacred flood,
Wash out all their sins with blood:
Then they all forgotten are,
Countless though like mine they were,
Cover'd by the purple wave,
Buried in my Saviour's grave!