Behold the Lamb! 'tis He who bore
My sins upon the tree;
And paid in death the dreadful score—
The guilt that lay on me.
I'd look to Him till sight endear
The Saviour to my heart;
To Him I look who calms my fear,
Nor from Himself would part.
I'd look until His precious love
My every thought control,
Its vast, constraining influence prove
O'er body, spirit, soul.
To Him I look, while still I run—
My never-failing Friend!
Finish, He will, the work begun,
And grace in glory end.