Wide Open Are Thy Hands

Wide op­en are Thy hands

Paying with more than gold

The aw­ful debt of guil­ty men

Forever and of old.

Ah

let me grasp those hands

That we may nev­er part

And let the pow­er of their blood

Sustain my faint­ing heart.

Wide op­en are Thine arms

A fall­en world t’em­brace;

To take to love and end­less rest

Our whole for­sak­en race.

Lord

I am sad and poor

But bound­less is Thy grace;

Give me the soul trans­form­ing joy

For which I seek Thy face.

Draw all my mind and heart

Up to Thy throne on high

And let Thy sac­red cross ex­alt

My spir­it to the sky.

To these

Thy migh­ty hands

My spir­it I re­sign;

Living

I live alone to Thee

Dying

alone am Thine.