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.”