A Cry from the Trenches

Jesus, mighty Son of God,

Who hast lain in death for me,

From this blood-besotted sod

Let my cry come near to Thee.

Turn not from my prayer away,

Let me see Thy face divine;

Shed of love a kindly ray

Into this dark heart of mine.

Thou hast from a flowing bowl

Drunk the sorrows of our race;

Shed Thy blood, my sinful soul

From defilement to efface.

Therefore I would lay my head,

Saviour, on Thy faithful breast

Where the dying welter red,

Where the dead unburied rest.

Oft have I, alas, forgot

Thee when circumstances shone

Bright upon my earthly lot

In the days forever gone.

Now when danger presses near,

Now when wanders death abroad,

Now when fenced around by fear,

Turn I to the living God.

Thou wilt not my prayer refuse,

Thou wilt pity my distress;

Let not unbelief accuse

Love divine of carelessness.

It is not what I have been,

It is not what I am now

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With the prayerful desire that the Lord Jesus Christ will use this God-given ministry in this form for His glory and the blessing of many in these last days before His coming. © Les Hodgett contact at stempublishing dot com .