Lord, accept our feeble song!
Pow'r and praise to Thee belong;
We would all Thy grace record,
Holy, gracious, loving Lord!
Rich in glory, Thou didst stoop,
Thence is all Thy people's hope;
Thou wast poor, that we might be
Rich in glory, Lord, with Thee.
Wherefore Thou high heaven didst spurn?
Wherefore Thou to earth didst turn?
Why leave heav'n to come to earth
Lonely, scorned, e'en suffering death?
Thou in heav'n — the glorious One!
Thou on earth — the outcast Man!
Though this suffering Thou didst know,
Love would come to bear our woe.
When we think of love like this,
Joy and shame our hearts possess;
Joy, that Thou couldst pity thus;
Shame, for such returns from us.
Yet we hope the day to see
When from every hindrance free,
When to Thee, in glory, brought,
We shall serve Thee as we ought.
Now, O Lord, we wait for Thee,
Wait "the blessed hope" to see.
May we ever for Thee live,
Till Thy saints Thou dost receive.