864
C. M.
Overcoming.
Kind Father, look with pity now
On one by sin defiled;
While at the mercy-seat I bow,
O bless thy erring child.
2 My struggles, Lord, to do thy will,
How poor and weak they are!
But thou art gracious to me still,
Then hear my humble prayer.
3 Let love upon my broken heart
Pour out its healing balm;
Bid all my trembling fears depart—
My troubled spirit calm.
4 And now my hope new courage takes,
My faith grows strong and sure;
The cloud from off my vision breaks,
Again my heart is pure.
5 My soul mounts up on wings of light
And soars to climes above—
The regions where all things are bright,
The home of Peace and Love.
6 There, soon I’ll sing of love divine,
With all the ransomed throng,
There, Jesus shall be ever mine,
His love my endless song.
W. T. Moore.