Approach, my soul, the mercy seat

Approach, my soul, the mercy seat,

Where Jesus answers prayer;

There humbly fall before His feet,

For none can perish there.

Thy promise is my only plea,

With this I venture nigh;

Thou callest burdened souls to Thee,

And such, O Lord, am I.

Bowed down beneath a load of sin,

By Satan sorely pressed,

By war without and fears within,

I come to Thee for rest.

Be Thou my Shield and hiding Place,

That, sheltered by Thy side,

I may my fierce accuser face,

And tell him Thou hast died!

O wondrous love! to bleed and die,

To bear the cross and shame,

That guilty sinners, such as I,

Might plead Thy gracious Name.

“Poor tempest-tossèd soul, be still;

My promised grace receive”;

’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will,

I can, I do believe.

Words: John New­ton, Ol­ney Hymns (Lon­don: W. Ol­iv­er, 1779).