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And wilt Thou yet be found,
And may I still draw near?
Then listen to the plaintive sound
Of a poor sinner's prayer.

Jesus, thine aid afford,
If still the same thou art:
to thee I look, to thee, my Lord,
I lift my helpless heart.

Thou seest my troubled breast,
The strugglings of my will,
The foes that interrupt my rest,
The agonies I feel.

O my offended Lord,
Restore my inward peace;
I know thou canst; pronounce the word,
And bid the tempest cease.

I long to see thy face;
Thy Spirit I implore--
The living water of thy grace
That I may thirst no more.