O mean may seem this house of clay,
Yet ’twas the Lord’s abode;
Our feet may mourn this thorny way,
Yet here Emmanuel trod.
This fleshly robe the Lord did wear,
This watch the Lord did keep,
These burdens sore the Lord did bear,
These tears the Lord did weep.
This world the Master overcame;
This death the Lord did die;
Oh, vanquished world! oh, glorious shame!
Oh, hallowed agony!
Oh, vale of tears, no longer sad,
Wherein the Lord did dwell!
Oh, holy robe of flesh that clad
Our own Immanuel!
Our very frailty brings us near
Unto the Lord of heaven;
To every grief, to every tear,
Such glory strange is given.
But not this fleshly robe alone
Shall link us, Lord, to Thee;
Not only in the tear and groan
Shall the dear kindred be.
We shall be reckoned for Thine own
Because Thy heaven we share,
Because we sing around Thy throne,
And Thy bright raiment wear.
Thou Who wast clothèd in our clay,
And stricken in our stead,
Wilt put on us Thy bright array,
Thy joy on us wilt shed.
O mighty grace, our life to live,
To make our earth divine:
O mighty grace, Thy heaven to give,
And lift our life to Thine.
