Not a day goes by without a thought
To the cross of life, the Lord’s sweet gift,
Where I with innocent blood was bought,
By the Lamb who freed my soul of guilt.
Not an hour I breathe is the Spirit far,
The Lord is near to all who call,
The Word within as the northern star,
His cleansing flow for when I fall.
Not a life, O Lord, you wish to die,
Your stirring goodness moves to save,
We count the time to seek and vie
For life beyond the murky grave.
Not a word for self would I defend,
My only cause is heaven’s reign,
My feet prepared for you to send—
May sinners won as fruit remain.