PRECIOUS, oh more than precious He,
Who gave His life to ransom me
From death and endless woe;
That I, a wanderer far from God,
Might, through the virtue of His blood,
Perfect redemption know.
How great His love, how full, how free,
No wonder then His name should be
Sweeter than all beside;
Should not my soul delight to dwell
Upon the love unsearchable
Of Christ once crucified?
Yes, He is precious: storms may rise,
And gloomy clouds o’erspread the skies,
But what have we to fear,
Whose joy it is to hear Him say,
“Strength shall be equal to thy day,
Fear not for I am near?”
Dear Saviour, fill me with Thy love,
O draw my wand’ring thoughts above,
Wean me from all below;
Soon may I see Thee face to face,
Drink of the fountain of Thy grace,
And all Thy sweetness know.