Oh, teach me what it meaneth:—
That cross uplifted high,
With One, the Man of Sorrows,
Condemned to bleed and die.
Oh, teach me what it cost Thee
To make a sinner whole;
And teach me, Savior, teach me
The value of a soul.
Oh, teach me what it meaneth:—
That sacred crimson tide—
The blood and water flowing
From Thine own wounded side.
Teach me that if none other
Had sinned, but I alone,
Yet still Thy blood, O Jesus,
Thine only, must atone.
Oh, teach me what it meaneth:—
Thy love beyond compare—
The love that reacheth deeper
Than depths of self-despair.
Yes, teach me, till there gloweth
In this cold heart of mine
Some feeble, pale reflection
Of that pure love of Thine!