395 King of Peace
Lord, I cannot let Thee go, Till a blessing Thou bestow; Do not turn away Thy face, Mine's an urgent, pressing case. Dost Thou ask me who I am? Ah! my Lord, Thou know'st my name; Yet the question gives a plea To support my suit with Thee. Thou didst once a wretch behold, In rebellion blindly bold, Scorn Thy grace, Thy pow'r defy; That poor rebel, Lord was I. |