Jesus, I throw my arms around,
And hang upon thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from thee,
My spirit cannot rest.
Oh! tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on thy hands;
Show me some promise in thy book,
Where my salvation stands.
Give me one kind assuring word.
To sink my fears again;
And cheerfully my soul shall wait,
Her threescore years and ten.
Words: Isaac Watts, Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1707-9.
