Father, I stretch my hands to Thee, 

No other help I know; 

If Thou withdraw Thyself from me, 

Ah! whither shall I go? 



What did Thine only Son endure, 

Before I drew my breath! 

What pain, what labor, to secure 

My soul from endless death! 



Surely Thou canst not let me die; 

O speak, and I shall live; 

And here I will unwearied lie, 

Till Thou Thy Spirit give. 



Author of faith! to Thee I lift 

My weary, longing eyes: 

O let me now receive that gift! 

My soul without it dies.