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O THOU, the contrite sinner’s Friend,
   Who, loving, lovest to the end,
On this alone my hopes depend,
    That Thou wilt plead for me.
2  When, weary in the Christian race,
Far off appears my resting-place,
And, fainting, I mistrust Thy grace,
    Then, Saviour, plead for me.
3  When I have erred and gone astray,
Afar from Thine and wisdom’s way,
And see no glimmering, guiding ray,
    Still, Saviour, plead for me.
4  When Satan, by my sins made bold,
Strives from Thy Cross to loose my hold,
Then with Thy pitying arms enfold,
    And plead, O, plead for me.
5  And when my dying hours draw near,
Darkened with anguish, guilt and fear,
Then to my fainting sight appear,
    Pleading in Heaven for me.
6  When the full light of heavenly day
Reveals my sins in dread array,
Say, Thou hast washed them all away;
    Dear Saviour, plead for me.
Charlotte Elliott, 1789-1871