The Stennetts of England - Samuel Stennett D.D. - Hymn Poems

Father! at thy call I come

Father! at thy call I come;
In thy bosom there is room
For a guilty soul to hide,
Pressed with grief on every side.

[Here I'll make my piteous moan!
Thou canst understand a groan:
Here my sins and sorrows tell,
What I feel thou knowest well.]

Ah! how foolish I have been
To obey the voice of sin -
To forget thy love to me,
And to break my vows to thee.

Darkness fills my trembling soul;
Floods of sorrow o'er me roll
Pity, Father! pity me!
All my hope's alone in thee.

But, may such a wretch as I,
Self-condemned and doomed to die,
Ever hope to be forgiven,
And be smiled upon by heaven?

[May I round thee cling and twine,
Call myself a child of thine
And presume to claim a part
In a tender Father's heart?

Yes, I may! for I espy
Pity trickling from thine eye:
'Tis a Father's bowels move, -
Move with pardon and with love.

Well I do remember, too,
What his love hath deigned to do:
How he sent a Saviour down
All my follies to atone.

Has my elder brother died?
And is justice satisfied?
Why -- O, why - should I despair,
Of my Father's tender care?

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