O God, I love Thee; not that my poor love
May win me en­trance to Thy Hea­ven above,
Nor yet that strang­ers to Thy love must know
The bit­ter­ness of ev­er­last­ing woe.

But, Je­sus, Thou art mine, and I am Thine;
Clasped to Thy bo­som by Thy arms di­vine,
Who on the cru­el cross for me hast borne
The nails, the spear, and man’s un­pi­ty­ing scorn.

No thought can fa­thom and no tongue ex­press
Thy griefs, Thy toils, Thy ang­uish mea­sure­less,
Thy death, O Lamb of God the un­de­filed;
And all for me, Thy way­ward sin­ful child.

How can I choose but love Thee, God’s dear Son,
O Je­sus, love­li­est, and most lov­ing One!
Were there no Hea­ven to gain, no Hell to flee,
For what Thou art alone I must love Thee.

Not for the hope of glo­ry or re­ward,
But even as Thy­self hast loved me, Lord,
I love Thee, and will love Thee and ad­ore,
Who art my king, my God, for ev­er­more.