For mercies, countless as the sands

What shall I render by John Newton


 * For mercies, countless as the sands,
 * Which daily I receive
 * From Jesus, my Redeemer's hands,
 * My soul what canst thou give?


 * Alas! from such a heart as mine,
 * What can I bring him forth?
 * My best is stained and dyed with sin,
 * My all is nothing worth.


 * Yet this acknowledgment I'll make
 * For all he has bestowed;
 * Salvation's sacred cup I'll take
 * And call upon my God.


 * The best returns for one like me,
 * So wretched and so poor;
 * Is from his gifts to draw a plea,
 * And ask him still for more.


 * I cannot serve him as I ought,
 * No works have I to boast;
 * Yet would I glory in the thought
 * That I shall owe him most.