8s & 6s. Matthew xi. 28. 1 STUPENDOUS love of God most high! He comes to meet us from the sky In mildest majesty; Full of unutterable grace, He calls the weary burdened race, "Come all for help to me."
2 Tired with the greatness of my way, From him I would no longer stray, But rest in Jesus have; Weary of sin, from sin would cease, Weary of mine own righteousness, And stoop, myself to save.
3 Weary of passions unsubdued, Weary of vows in vain renewed, Of forms without the power, Of prayers, and hopes, complaints, and groans, My fainting soul in silence owns I can hold out no more.
4 Beneath this mountain load of grief, Of guilt and desperate unbelief, Jesus, thy creature see; With all my nature's weight oppressed, I sink, I die for want of rest, Yet cannot come to thee.
5 Mine utter helplessness I feel; But thou, who gav'st the feeble will, The effectual grace supply; Be thou my strength, my light, my way, And bid my soul the call obey, And to thy bosom fly.
6 Fulfil thine own intense desire, And now into my heart inspire The power of faith and love; Then, Saviour, then to thee I come, And find on earth the life, the home, The rest of saints above.