Verse 1
When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend,
And plead with Thee for mercy there,
Think of the sinner's dying Friend,
And for His sake receive my prayer

Verse 2
Oh think not of my shame and guilt,
My thousand stains of deepest dye;
Think of the blood which Jesus spilt
My pardon and my life to buy

Verse 3
Think, Lord, how I am still Thine own,
The trembling creature of Thy hand;
Think how my heart to sin is prone,
And what temptations round me stand

Verse 4
Oh think upon Thy holy word,
And every plighted promise there;
How prayer should evermore be heard,
And how Thy glory is to spare

Verse 5
Oh think not of my doubts and fears,
My strivings with Thy grace divine,
Think upon Jesus' woes and tears,
And let His merits stand for mine

Verse 6
Thine eye, Thine ear, they are not dull
Thine arm can never shorten'd be;
Behold me here; my heart is full;
Behold, and spare, and succour me