I stood outside the gate, A poor way-faring child; Within my heart there beat A tempest loud and wild; A fear oppressed my soul, That I might be too late; And, oh, I trembled sore, And prayed outside the gate.
“O Mercy!” loud I cried, “Now give me rest from sin!” “I will,” a voice replied, And Mercy let me in: She bound my bleeding wounds, And soothed my heart oppressed, She washed away my guilt, And gave me peace and rest.
In Mercy’s guise I knew The Savior long abused, Who often sought my heart, And wept when I refused; Oh, what a blest return For all my years of sin! I stood outside the gate, And Jesus let me in.