As Philip ran up, he heard the Ethiopian reading from Isaiah the prophet. Acts 8:30–31
Do you understand what you’re reading? he asked.
How can I, he said,
unless someone explains it to me?
O tell me more of Christ, my Savior;
On this glad theme dwell o’er and o’er;
His boundless grace, His saving favor,
His precious name, O tell me more!
O tell me more! So much I need
His power to keep, His hand to lead;
O tell me more of Him I love,
Until I see His face above.
O tell me more of love’s sweet story,
If you would cheer and comfort me;
How Jesus wept, the King of glory,
Those tender tears of sympathy.
O tell me more! How waves of sorrow
Shall hear His voice say,
Peace, be still;
How after night, bright dawns the morrow,
To those who trust His blessèd will.
O tell me more! And I repeating
The happy news, shall spread the joy;
Come, blessèd Lord, Thy work completing,
Till songs of praise our lips employ.