wer.

Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone,
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace:
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash, me, Saviour, or I die.

Whilst I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyestrings break in death;
When I soar through tracts unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

_GLADSTONE._

Jesus, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus;
Tu per lympham profluentem,
Tu per sanguinem tepentem,
In peccata mi redunda,
Tolle culpam, sordes munda!

Coram Te nec justus forem
Quamvis tota vi laborem,
Nec si fide nunquam cesso,
Fletu stillans indefesso;
Tibi soli tantum munus--
Salva me, Salvator Unus!

Nil in manu mecum fero,
Sed me versus crucem gero:
Vestimenta nudus oro,
Opem debilis imploro,
Fontem Christi quaero immundus,
Nisi laves, moribundus.

Dum hos artus vita regit,
Quando nox sepulcro legit;
Mortuos quum stare jubes,
Sedens Judex inter nubes;--
Jesus, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus!

The wonderful hymn has suffered the mutations common to time and taste.

When I soar thro' tracts unknown

--becomes--

When I soar to worlds unknown,

--getting rid of the unpoetic word, and bettering the elocution, but
missing the writer's thought (of the unknown _path_,--instead of going
to many "worlds"). The Unitarians have their version, with substitutes
for the "atonement lines."

But the Christian lyric maintains its life and inspiration through the
vicissitudes of age and use, as all intrinsically superior things can
and will,--and as in the twentieth line,--

When my eyestrings break in death;

--modernized to--

When my eyelids close in death,

--the hymn will ever adapt itself to the new exigencies of common
speech, without losing its vitality and power.

_THE TUNE._

A happy inspiration of Dr. Thomas Hastings made the hymn and music
inevitably one. Almost anywhere to call for the tune of "Toplady"
(namesake of the pious poet) is as unintelligible to the multitude as
"Key" would be to designate the "