Not What My Hands Have Done
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 my 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;
they power 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 unfaltering lip and hear, I call this Savior mine.
His cross dispels each doubt; I bury in his tomb
each thought of unbelief and fear, each lingering 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 saveth me, and freely pardon gives;
I love because he loveth me, I live because he lives.
-- Hymn by Horatius Bonar --