The Sav­ior, what a no­ble flame
Was kin­dled in His breast:
When hast­ing to Je­ru­sa­lem
He marched be­fore the rest!

Good-will to men and zeal to God,
His ev­ery thought en­gross;
He longs to be bap­tized with blood,
He pants to reach the cross.

With all His suf­fer­ings full in view,
And woes, to us, un­known,
Forth to the task His Spir­it flew,
’Twas love that urged Him on.

Lord, we re­turn Thee what we can!
Our hearts shall sound abroad
Salvation, to the dy­ing Man,
And to the ris­ing God!

And while Thy bleed­ing glo­ries here
Engage our won­der­ing eyes;
We learn our light­er cross to bear,
And hast­en to the skies.