Lord, accept our feeble song!
Power and praise to Thee belong;
We would all Thy grace record,
Holy, holy, holy 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.
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.