5 O wretched state of deep despair,
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his Love.
6 Jesus, I throw my arms around,
And hang upon thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from thee
My spirit cannot rest.
7 O tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on thy hands;
Shew me some promise in thy book
Where my salvation stands!
8 [Give me one kind assuring word,
To sink my fears again,
And cheerfully my soul shall wait
Her threescore years and ten.]
Hymn 2:108.
Access to the throne of grace by a Mediator.
1 Come, let us lift our joyful eyes
Up to the courts above,
And smile to see our Father there
Upon a throne of love.
2 Once 'twas a seat of dreadful wrath,
And shot devouring flame;
Our God appear'd consuming fire,
And vengeance was his name.
3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,
That calm'd his frowning face,
That sprinkled o'er the burning throne,
And turn'd the wrath to grace.
4 Now we may bow before his feet,
And venture near the Lord;
No fiery cherub guards his seat,
Nor double-flaming sword.
5 The peaceful gates of heavenly bliss
Are open'd by the Son;
High let us raise our notes of praise,
And reach th' Almighty throne.