1. I Try, and Try Again
To publish Jesus' worth,
And fain I would, but never can,
Set half His riches forth.
2. The love His bosom feels,
His tongue alone can tell;
And till the Lord this love reveal,
None understand it well.
3. 'Tis deep, unfathomed love,
And charms the hosts on high,
Yet will in man no wonder move,
Without an opened eye.
4. His blood, so freely split,
Is loud proclaim to all,
Rich balm to heal the deepest guilt,
Yet few regard the call.
5. Sweet health His grace imparts,
And grace divinely free;
Rich grace to cleanse the foulest heart,
Yet few say, "Give it me."
6. Some footsteps of thy grace
My tutored heart can find,
And view some of thy face,
And yet I'm almost blind. |
|
