Father I stretch my hands to Thee,
No other help I know.
If Thou withdraw Thyself from me,
Ah! whither shall I go?


There’s balm in Gilead,
That cures the sinsick soul;
There’s balm in Gilead,
That makes the wounded whole.

What did Thine only Son endure
Before I drew my breath?
What pain, what labor to secure
My soul from endless death!


O Jesus, could I this believe,
I now should feel Thy pow’r.
And all my wants Thou would’st relieve
In this accepted hour.


Recordings 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7