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 And I have come to hide beneath your feet These holy hands are raised, washed in the fountain of your grace I wear your right of sin, give me peace within Set my spirit free, these filthy rags are all I've come with These holy hands are raised, washed in the fountain of your grace And now I wear your righteousness, grace alone, oh God, to me Can pardon speak, by power alone, oh Lamb of God, can this sore bondage break? No other work save thine, no other blood will do No strength save that which is divine, can bear me safely through These guilty hands are raised, rags are all I bring These holy hands are raised, washed in the fountain of your grace And now I wear your righteousness, grace alone, oh God, to me I praise the God of grace, I trust his truth And he calls me his, I call him mine, my guide, my joy, my light I see who's saved, because he loved me, I live because he lives These holy hands are raised, washed in the fountain of your grace And now I wear your righteousness, grace alone, oh God, to me