Here are a couple of hymns I've recently come across. They are quite moving. As far as I know, the last two are not put to music. The first, "Weary of Wandering from My God" can be heard at
http://www.soundclick.com/bands/default.cfm?bandID=217881
This is the site of my daughter Katie's fiance, Jered McKenna. He and Katie sing the song; Jered wrote the music.

Weary of wandering from my God - Charles Wesley

Weary of wandering from my God, And now made willing to returnI
hear and bow me to the rod For thee, not without hope, I mourn:
I have an Advocate above A Friend before the throne of love.

O Jesus, full of truth and grace More full of grace than I of sin
Yet once again I seek Thy face:Open Thine arms and take me in
And freely my backslidings heal And love the faithless sinner still.

Thou know’st the way to bring me back My fallen spirit to restore.
O for Thy truth and mercy’s sake,Forgive, and bid me sin no more:
The ruins of my soul repair And make my heart a house of prayer.

The stone to flesh again convert,The veil of sin again remove;
Sprinkle Thy blood upon my heart,And melt it by Thy dying love;
]This rebel heart by love subdue, And make it soft, and make it new.

Give to mine eyes refreshing tears,And kindle my relentings now;
Fill my whole soul with filial fears,To Thy sweet yoke my spirit bow;
Bend by Thy grace, O bend or break,The iron sinew in my neck!

Ah! give me, Lord, the tender heart That trembles at the approach of sin;
A godly fear of sin impart,Implant, and root it deep within,
That I may dread Thy gracious power,And never dare to offend Thee more



Horatius Bonar, 1856
I see the crowd in Pilate's hall

I see the crowd in Pilate's hall,
Their furious cries I hear;
Their shouts of "Crucify!" appall,
Their curses fill mine ear.
And of that shouting multitude
I feel that I am one,
And in that din of voices rude
I recognize my own.

2. I see the scourgers rend the flesh
Of God's beloved Son;
And as they smite I feel afresh
That I of them am one.
Around the Cross the throng I see
That mock the Sufferer's groan,
Yet still my voice it seems to be,
As if I mocked alone.

3. 'Twas I that shed that sacred Blood,
I nailed him to the Tree,
I crucified the Christ of God,
I joined the mockery.
Yet not the less that Blood avails
To cleanse me from sin,
And not the less that Cross prevails
To give me peace within.


John Newton:
Hymn 57

Looking at the cross.

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear;
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw one hanging on a tree,
In agonies and blood;
Who fixed his languid eyes on me,
As near his cross I stood.

Sure, never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;
It seemed to charge me with his death,
Though not a word he spoke.

My conscience felt, and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;
I saw my sins his blood had spilt,
And helped to nail him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did,
But now my tears are vain;
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the LORD have slain.

A second look he gave, which said,
“I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid,
I die, that thou may’st live.”

Thus, while his death my sin displays,
In all its blackest hue;
(Such is the mystery of grace)
It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief and mournful joy,
My spirit now is filled;
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by him I killed.