Not What My Hands have Done
Not what my hands have done
Can save my guilt-y soul;
Not what my toil-ing flesh has borne
Can make my spir-it whole.
Not what I feel or do
Can give me peace with God;
Not all my prayers and sighs and tears
Can bear my aw-ful load.
Thy work a-lone, O Christ,
Can ease this weight of sin;
Thy blood a-lone, O Lamb of God,
Can give me peace with-in.
Thy love to me, O God,
Not mine, O Lord, to Thee,
Can rid me of this dark un-rest,
And set my spir-it free.
Thy grace a-lone, O God,
To me can par-don speak;
Thy pow'r a-lone, O Son of God,
Can this sore bond-age break.
No oth-er work, save Thine,
No oth-er blood will do;
No strength, save that which is di-vine,
Can bear me safely through.
I bless the Christ of God;
I rest on love di-vine;
And with un-fal-t'ring lip and heart,
I call this Sav-ior mine.
His cross dis-pels each doubt;
I bur-y in His tomb
Each thought of un-be-lief and fear,
Each lin-g'ring 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, my light.
'Tis He who sav-eth me,
And free-ly par-don gives;
I love be-cause He lov-eth me,
I live be-cause He lives.