Out of the Deep I Cry to Thee

Out of the deep I cry to Thee;

O Lord God

hear my cry­ing;

Incline Thy gra­cious ear to me

With pray­er to Thee ap­ply­ing.

For if Thou fix Thy search­ing eye

On sin and all ini­qui­ty

Who

Lord

can stand be­fore Thee?

But love and grace with Thee pre­vail

O God! our sins for­giv­ing!

The ho­li­est deeds can naught pre­vail

Of all be­fore Thee liv­ing.

Before Thee none can boast him clear;

Therefore must each Thy judg­ment fear

And live on Thy com­pass­ion.

For this my hope in God shall rest

Naught build­ing on my mer­it:

My heart con­fides

of Him pos­sessed:

His good­ness stays my spir­it.

His pre­cious blood as­sur­eth me

My sol­ace

my sure rock is He;

Hereon my soul abid­eth.

And though I wait the live­long night

And till the morn re­turn­eth

My heart un­doubt­ing trusts His might

Nor in im­pa­tience mourn­eth.

Born of His Spir­it Is­ra­el

In the right way thus far­eth well

And on his God re­pos­eth.

What though our sins are ma­ni­fold

Supreme His mer­cy reign­eth;

No li­mit can His hand with­hold

Where ev­il most ob­tain­eth.

He the good Shep­herd is alone

Who Is­ra­el will re­deem and own

Forgiving all trans­gress­ion.