Comfort in The Storms
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 the 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 pow’r alone O Son of God, can this sore bondage break. No other work save Thine, no other 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 unfalt’ring 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 ling’ring shade of gloom. I praise the God of grace, I trust His truth and might; He calls me His, I call Him