112

C.M.

1
And does thy labouring bosom heave?
Thy heart for Jesus sigh?
Though guilt and doublings make thee grieve
Still for His mercy cry.

2
If there’s a space within thy breast,
That none but Christ can fill;
He died, and therefore, can give rest;
He’s true, and, therefore, will.

3
Did ever sinner sink to woe,
Thirsting for pardoning grace?
Ten thousand voices answer,
No! None die that seek His face.

4
Go then, poor leper, cast thy soul
Down at His nail-pierced feet;
He’ll raise thee up; He’ll make thee whole,
And all thy foes defeat.

5
His word, His cross, His blood, His pain,
His rising from the grave,
Ring through the earth again, again,
He’s willing now to save.