Where Shall I Fly But To Thy Feet
Where shall I fly but to thy feet,
My Saviour, my almighty friend?
Dear names, beyond expression sweet!
On these my hopes of bliss depend.
Where shall I rest but on thy grace,
Thy boundless grace divinely free?
On earth I find no resting place;
Dear Saviour, bid me come to thee!
Though sin detains me from my Lord,
I long, I languish to be blest:
O speak one soul reviving word,
And bid me come to thee, my rest.
When I this wretched heart explore,
Here no kind source of hope appears;
But O my soul, that grace adore,
Free grace, which triumphs o’er my fears.
Jesus, from thy atoning blood,
My only consolation flows;
Hope beams from thee my Saviour God,
My soul no other refuge knows.