A Gospel Poem

Not what my hands have done
Can save my guilty soul
Not what my toiling flesh has borne
Can make my spirit whole
Not what I feel or do
Can give me peace with God
Not all my prayers and sighs and tears
Can bear my awful load

These guilty hands are raised
Filthy rags are all I bring
But I have come to hide beneath Your wings
These holy hands are raised
Washed in the fountain of Your grace
And now I wear Your righteousness
- Horatious Bonar, Not What My Hands Have Done

(via firstimportance.org)