How great the love, Lord Jesus,
That led Thee from Thy throne;
To die, from sin to free us,
And make us all Thine own—
That led Thee, Lord of glory,
A servant’s form to take;
Thyself, Jehovah’s equal,
Of no repute to make.
We love to trace Thy pathway,
From off that throne on high;
Down here to Bethlehem’s manger,
Thence on to Calvary.
The gentleness and meekness
In all Thy ways we see,
Have won our hearts’ affection,
And we would like Thee be.
We love to see the glory,
Unseen by Nature’s eyes,
That shone in every action,
Which only faith descries—
The peace, so calm, unruffled,
Amid this scene of woe;
The joy, (“my joy,”) that naught could dim,
Which only Thou could’st know:
The light that met the sinner,
Revealing all his sin;
Then freely all forgiving,
And breathing peace within;
Telling it was to save them,
Thou cam’st to shed Thy blood;
Thy life and death were needed
To make their peace with God:
The love that knew each sorrow,
And felt for every woe;
That made Thee ever ready
Thy sympathy to show.
Thyself the “Man of sorrows,”
None would Thy sorrows share;
Yet self-forgetful ever,
Thou could’st for others care.
But, oh! we’re lost in wonder!
As there on Calvary’s tree,
By man cast out, rejected,
God’s wrath was borne by Thee.
Oh! “love beyond all measure,”
That took the sinner’s place,
And bore the dreadful merits,
“Of sin and its disgrace.”
And, oh! we love to see Thee
At God’s right hand above;
Still daily, hourly serving,
The objects of Thy love—
With gracious care removing
Each spot that would defile,
And hinder their communion
With Thee, “the little while.”
And soon Thou’lt come in glory
(Such is Thy perfect love);
Thou would’st not do without us
In you bright home above.
Thou would’st not yet be satisfied,
Till we are with Thee there;
The Bride Thy love has purchased,
Thy Father’s home must share.