Nothing in my hand I bring

Not the labors of my hands Can fulfill thy Law's demands: Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears forever flow, All for Sin could not atone: Thou must save, and Thou alone!

Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee. Let the Water and the Blood, From thy riven Side which flow'd, Be of Sin the double Cure, Cleanse me from its Guilt and Pow'r.

Christ whose glory fills the skies, Christ, the true, the only light, Sun of Righteousness, arise, Triumph o'er the shades of night; Day-spring from on high, be near, Day-star in my heart appear.

But see! the pains begin to fly; Tho’ Venus bled she could not die: See the new phœnix point her eyes, And lovelier from her ashes rise.

Brighter from her disease she shines, As fire the precious gold refines. Thus when the silent grave becomes Pregnant with life as fruitful wombs; When the wide seas and spacious earth Resign us to our second birth;

'Tis the night—the night Of the grave's delight, And the warlocks are at their play! Ye think that without, The wild winds shout, But no, it is they—it is they!