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

A. M. Toplady  112th

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.

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.

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.

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.


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