Thou must save, and thou alone.
3 Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to thee for dress;
Helpless, look to thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Saviour, or I die!
4 While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyelids close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,