Father, I Stretch My Hands to Thee

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.