Poem by Augustus Montague Toplady

There Is Mercy with Thee

Lord, should'st thou weigh my righteousness
Or mark what I have done amiss,
How should thy servant stand?
Tho' others might, yet surely I
Must hide my face, nor dare to cry
For mercy at thy hand.

But thou art loth thy bolts to shoot;
Backward and slow to execute
The vengeance due to me:
Thou dost not willingly reprove,
For all the mild effects of love
Are center'd, Lord, in thee.

Shine, then, thou all-subduing light,
The powers of darkness put to flight
Nor from me ever part:
From earth to heaven be thou my guide,
And O, above each gift beside,
Give me an upright heart.

1. Fountain of Never Ceasing Grace
2. When Languor and Disease Invade
3. Grace, 'Tis a Charming Sound
4. Shepherd Divine, Our Wants Relieve
5. Your Harps, Ye Trembling Saints

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