1052    112th     Augustus Toplady
“God forbid that I should glory.” Gal. 6. 14

1 Redeemer! whither should I flee,
  Or how escape the wrath to come?
  The weary sinner flies to thee
  For shelter from impending doom;
  Smile on me, gracious Lord, and show
  Thyself the Friend of sinners now.

2 Beneath the shadow of thy cross
  The heavy-laden soul finds rest;
  I would esteem the world but dross,
  So I might be of Christ possessed.
  I’d seek my every joy in thee,
  Be thou both life and light to me.

3 Close to the ignominious tree,
  Jesus, my humbled soul would cleave;
  Despised and crucified with thee,
  With thee resolved to die and live;
  This prayer and this ambition mine,
  Living and dying to be thine.

4 There, fastened to the rugged wood
  By holy love’s resistless chain,
  And life deriving from thy blood,
  Never to wander wide again,
  There may I bow my suppliant knee,
  And own no other Lord but thee.