In Temptation, Hymn 7

To whom but Thee, Thou bleeding Lamb,
Should I for help apply?
Still in the toils of death I am,
And sin is always nigh.

But Thou, my Lord, art nigher still
Throughout the fiery hour,
To rescue me from my own will,
Till I can sin no more.

O were Thy sufferings on the tree
Into my soul brought in!
O that Thy death might work in me
A perfect death to sin!

Me to Thy suffering self conform,
The mortal power impart,
Pity a poor, weak, labouring worm,
And wash my guilty heart.

Thou know'st on works, and means, and men,
No longer I rely,
I never, never can be clean
Till Thou Thy blood apply.

My only trust is in Thy blood,
Which purges every stain:
Bring in, O Lord, the purer flood,
Nor let me ask in vain.

Faith in Thy blood, Thou seest, I have,
For Thou the grace hast given;
Thy blood from all my sin shall save,
And speak me up to heaven.

Thy blood shall quench this fire of hell,
Which now I feel within,
Thy blood my sin-sick soul shall heal,
And wash out all my sin.

In hope believing against hope
Till then I look to Thee;
I see Thee, Saviour, lifted up
For all mankind and me.

Determined nothing else to know,
But Jesus crucified,
I cannot from my Jesus go,
Or leave Thy wounded side.

Thou wilt not let me hence depart,
Till all Thy death I prove,
Redeem'd from sin, and pure in heart,
And perfected in love.

The anchor of my steadfast hope
Within the veil I cast;
Thy dying love shall hold me up,
Till all the storms are past.

Only because Thou diedst for me
I trust on this alone,
And look in life and death to be
With Thee for ever one.