5807 6. 7 6. D
I COULD not do without Thee,
   O Saviour of the lost,
Whose precious blood redeemed me
    At such tremendous cost;
Thy righteousness, Thy pardon,
    Thy precious blood must be
My only hope and comfort,
    My glory and my plea.
2  I could not do without Thee,
    I cannot stand alone,
I have no strength or goodness,
    No wisdom of my own;
But Thou, belovèd Saviour,
    Art All-in-all to me,
And weakness will be power
    If leaning hard on Thee.
3  I could not do without Thee;
    No other friend can read
The spirit’s strange, deep longings,
    Interpreting its need;
No human heart could enter
    Each dim recess of mine,
And soothe, and hush, and calm it,
    O blessèd Lord, but Thine.
4  I could not do without Thee;
    For years are fleeting fast,
And soon in solemn loneness
    The river must be passed:
But Thou wilt never leave me;
    And though the waves roll high
I know Thou wilt be near me
    And whisper, ‘It is I.’
Frances Ridley Havergal, 1836-79