Savior from sin, I wait to prove
That Jesus is Thy healing name;
To lose, when perfected in love,
Whate’er I have, or can, or am:
I stay me on Thy faithful word,
“The servant shall be as his Lord.”
Answer that gracious end in me
For which Thy precious life was given,
Redeem from all iniquity,
Restore, and make me meet for heaven;
Unless Thou purge my every stain,
Thy suffering and my faith are vain.
’Tis not a bare release from sin,
Its guilt and pain, my soul requires;
I want a Spirit of power within;
Thee, Jesus, Thee my heart desires,
And pants, and breaks to be renewed,
And washed in Thine all-cleansing blood.
Didst Thou not in the flesh appear
Sin to condemn, and man to save?
That perfect love might cast out fear?
That I Thy mind in me might have,
In holiness show forth Thy praise,
And serve Thee all my spotless days?
Didst Thou not die that I might live
No longer to myself, but Thee?
Might body, soul, and spirit give
To Him who gave Himself for me?
Come then, my Master, and my God,
Take the dear purchase of Thy blood.
Thy own peculiar servant claim,
For Thy own truth and mercy’s sake;
Hallow in me Thy glorious name;
Me for Thine own this moment take,
And change, and throughly purify;
Thine only may I live and die.1