What Shall I Render
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.
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