APPROACH, my soul, the mercy-seat,
    Where Jesus answers prayer;
There humbly fall before His feet,
    For none can perish there.
2  Thy promise is my only plea;
    With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to Thee,
    And such, O Lord, am I.
3  Bowed down beneath a load of sin,
    By Satan sorely pressed;
By wars without, and fears within,
    I come to Thee for rest!
4  Be Thou my shield and hiding-place,
    That, sheltered near Thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,
    And tell him Thou hast died.
5  O wondrous love, to bleed and die,
    To bear the cross and shame,
That guilty sinners, such as I,
    Might plead Thy gracious name!
6  ‘Poor soul, now tempest tossed, be still,
    My promised grace receive.’
’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will,
    I can, I do believe.
John Newton, 1725-1807