363
C. P. M.
Christ our only hope.
Desponding soul, O cease thy woe;
Dry up thy tears; to Jesus go,
In faith’s appointed way;
Let not thy unbelieving fears
Still hold thee back—thy Saviour hears—
From him no longer stay.
2 No works of thine can e’er impart
A balm to heal thy wounded heart,
Or solid comfort give;
Turn, then, to him who freely gave
His precious blood thy soul to save:
E’en now he bids thee live.
3 Helpless and lost, to Jesus fly!
His power and love are ever nigh
To those who seek his face;
Thy deepest guilt on him was laid;
He bore thy sins, thy ransom paid;
O, haste to share his grace.
T. U. Walters.