And all the joys I have
Upon the Savior’s brow;
His head with radiant glories crowned,
His lips with grace o’erflow.
Survey the beauties of His face,
And on His glories dwell;
Think of the wonders of His grace,
And all His triumphs tell.
No mortal can with Him compare
Among the sons of men;
Fairer is He than all the fair
Who fill the heav’nly train.
He saw me plunged in deep distress
And flew to my relief;
For me He bore the shameful cross
And carried all my grief.
His hand a thousand blessings pours
Upon my guilty head:
His presence gilds my darkest hours,
And guards my sleeping bed.
To Him I owe my life and breath
And all the joys I have;
He makes me triumph over death
And saves me from the grave.
To Heav’n, the place of His abode,
He brings my weary feet;
Shows me the glories of my God,
And makes my joys complete.
Since from His bounty I receive
Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they should all be Thine.
Reader Comments