1 Lord, at thy feet I prostrate fall,
Oppress'd with fears to thee I call:
Reveal thy pard'ning love to me,
And set my captive spirit free.

2 Hast thou not said, "Seek ye my face."
The invitation I embrace;
I'll seek thy face; thy Spirit give!
O let me see thy face, and live.

3 I'll wait, perhaps my Lord may come;
If I turn back, hell is my doom;
And begging in his way, I'll lie
Till the dear Savior passes by.

4 I'll seek his face with cries and tears,
With secret sighs and fervent pray'rs;
And if not heard, I'll waiting sit,
And perish at my Savior's feet.

5 But canst thou, Lord, see all my pain,
And bid me seek thy face in vain?
No! Jesus will not, can't deceive,
The soul that seeks his face shall live.