Not What These Hands Have Done

Not what my hands have done

Can save my guil­ty soul;

Not what my toil­ing flesh has borne

Can make my spir­it whole.

Not what I feel or do

Can give me peace with God;

Not all my pray­ers and sighs and tears

Can bear my aw­ful load.

Thy work alone

O Christ

Can ease this weight of sin;

Thy blood alone

O Lamb of God

Can give me peace with­in.

Thy love to me

O God

Not mine

O Lord

to Thee

Can rid me of this dark un­rest

And set my spir­it free.

Thy grace alone

O God

To me can par­don speak;

Thy pow­er alone

O Son of God

Can this sore bond­age break.

No oth­er work

save Thine

No mean­er blood will do;

No strength

save that which is di­vine

Can bear me safe­ly through.

I bless the Christ of God;

I rest on love di­vine;

And with un­fal­ter­ing lip and heart

I call this Sav­ior mine.

His cross dis­pels each doubt;

I bu­ry in His tomb

Each thought of un­belief and fear

Each lin­ger­ing shade of gloom.

I praise the God of grace;

I trust His truth and might;

He calls me His

I call Him mine

My God

my joy and light.

In Him is on­ly good

In me is on­ly ill;

My ill but draws His good­ness forth

And me He lov­eth still.

’Tis He who sav­eth me

And free­ly par­don gives;

I love be­cause He lov­eth me

I live be­cause He lives.

My life with Him is hid

My death has passed away

My clouds have melt­ed in­to light

My mid­night in­to day.