Out of the Depths
Out of the Depths It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast; ‘Tis manna to the hungry soul, And to the weary rest. Dear Name! the Rock on which I build My Shield and Hiding-place; My never-failing Treasury fill’d With boundless stores of grace. By Thee my prayers acceptance gain, Although with sin defiled; Satan accuses me in vain, And I am own’d a child. Jesus! my Shepherd, Husband, Friend, My Prophet, Priest, and King; My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End, Accept the praise I bring. Weak is the effort of my heart, And cold...