1052

“God forbid that I should glory.” Gal. 6. 14

A. M. Toplady  112th

1
Redeemer! whither should I flee,
Or how escape the wrath to come?
The weary sinner flies to thee
For shelter from impending doom;
Smile on me, gracious Lord, and show
Thyself the Friend of sinners now.

2
Beneath the shadow of thy cross
The heavy-laden soul finds rest;
I would esteem the world but dross,
So I might be of Christ possessed.
I’d seek my every joy in thee,
Be thou both life and light to me.

3
Close to the ignominious tree,
Jesus, my humbled soul would cleave;
Despised and crucified with thee,
With thee resolved to die and live;
This prayer and this ambition mine,
Living and dying to be thine.

4
There, fastened to the rugged wood
By holy love’s resistless chain,
And life deriving from thy blood,
Never to wander wide again,
There may I bow my suppliant knee,
And own no other Lord but thee.