For Mercies, Countless as the Sands

For mer­cies

count­less as the sands

Which dai­ly I re­ceive

From Je­sus

my Re­deem­er’s hands

My soul

what canst thou give?

Alas! from such a heart as mine

What can I bring Him forth?

My best is stained and dyed with sin

My all is no­thing worth.

Yet this ac­know­ledg­ment I’ll make

For all He has be­stowed;

Salvation’s sa­cred cup I’ll take

And call up­on my God.

The best re­turn for one like me

So wretch­ed and so poor;

Is from His gifts to draw a plea

And ask Him still for more.

I can­not serve him as I ought

No works have I to boast;

Yet would I glo­ry in the thought

That I shall owe Him most.