O what love was Thine, Lord Jesus,
For the Church Thyself to give;
That, redeem’d to God forever,
She in Thee might ever live!
Precious was the blood Thou sheddest,
Great the grace which Thou didst show;
And ascending, Lord, Thou leddest
Captive every mighty foe.
Now, from all that is defiling
Thou dost cleanse her by the Word;
Savest from the snares, beguiling,
Spread for her, as net for bird.
Thou dost love her, cheer and nourish,
As Thy body, bones, and flesh:
Thus Thy life in her doth flourish,
Love to Thee is true and fresh.
Who Thy gladness, Lord, can measure,
When Thou home shalt bring Thy bride?
Thy delight! Thy bosom’s treasure!
In Thy glory glorified!
Then she’ll shine as Thy reflection,
Glorious, spotless, free from blame—
Perfect in Thine own perfection,
Blest in Thine enduring Name.