Reach thy hand to me, O Jesus;
Reach thy loving hand to me,
Or I sink, alas, and perish
In my sin and agony.
From the depths I cry, O Jesus,
Lifting up mine eyes to thee;
Save me from my sin and sorrow
With thy loving charity.
Pity, Jesus–blessed Savior;
I am weak, but thou art strong;
Fill my heart with prayer and praises,
Fill my soul with holy song.
Lift me up, O sacred Jesus–
Lift my bruised heart to thee;
Teach me to be pure and holy
As the holy angels be.
Scribes and Pharisees surround me:
Thou art writing in the sand:
Must I perish, Son of Mary?
Wilt thou give the stern command?
Am I saved?–for Jesus sayeth–
“Let the sinless cast a stone.”
Lo the Scribes have all departed,
And the Pharisees are gone!
“Woman, where are thine accusers?”
(They have vanished one by one.)
“Hath no man condemned thee, woman?”
And she meekly answered–“None.”
Then he spake His blessed answer–
Balm indeed for sinners sore–
“Neither then will I condemn thee:
Go thy way and sin no more.”
(Hanford Lennox Gordon)
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