Of all the Gifts Thine Hand Bestows by John Newton

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I: Of all the gifts thine hand bestows, / Thou Giver of all good!

Not heaven itself a richer knows, / Than my Redeemer's blood.

II: Faith too, the blood-receiving grace, / From the same hand we gain; / Else, sweetly as it suits our case, / That gift had been in vain.

III: Till thou thy teaching power apply, / Our hearts refuse to see, / And, weak as a distemper'd eye, / Shut out the view of thee.

IV: Blind to the merits of thy Son, / What misery we endure!

Yet fly that hand from which alone / We could expect a cure.

V: We praise thee, and would praise thee more; / To thee our all we owe --

The precious Saviour, and the power / That makes him precious too.

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