O what hath I to bring, when I doth come
to Thee who sittest on Thy throne above?
I look upon my hands, and softly weep,
for who can so compare to Thy great love?
For me Thou comest down from heav’n to earth,
a frail sweet babe, so gentle, harmless, mild.
For me Thou comest down to labour, serve,
amidst the foes who scorn and wrongly chide.
For me Thou prayest, sweeting beads of blood,
that God the Father keep my way in Thee.
For me Thou shedst Thy blood to save my soul,
when Thou wast hanged by them at Calvary.
For me Thou layest down Thy sinless life,
when still I yet had sinned, and was Thy foe.
Such gracious holy love! so pure, divine,
to save this fading dust on earth below.
O, only praise and thanks I bring to Thee,
and raise this pray’r: that…
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