I love to sing of that great Pow­er
That made the earth and sea;
But bet­ter still, I love the song
Of Je­sus died for me.

I love to sing of shrub and flow­er,
Of field and plant and tree;
But sweet­er note for ever is,
That Je­sus died for me.

I love to think of an­gels’ songs,
From sin and sor­row free;
But an­gels can­not strike their notes
To Je­sus died for me.

I love to speak of God, of Hea­ven,
And all its pu­ri­ty;
God is my Fa­ther, Hea­ven my home,
For Je­sus died for me.

And when I reach that hap­py place,
From all temp­ta­tion free,
I’ll tune my ev­er rap­tur­ous notes
With Je­sus died for me.