To Je­sus, our ex­alt­ed Lord,
(Dear name, by Heav’n and earth ado­red!)
Fain would our hearts and voic­es raise
A cheer­ful song of sac­red praise.

But all the notes which mor­tals know
Are weak and lang­uish­ing and low;
Far, far above our hum­ble songs,
The theme de­mands im­mor­tal tongues.

Yet while around His board we meet,
And wor­ship at His glo­ri­ous feet;
O let our warm af­fect­ions move
In glad re­turns of grate­ful love.

Yes, Lord, we love, and we adore,
But long to know and love Thee more;
And while we taste the bread and wine,
Desire to feed on joys di­vine.

Let faith our feeble sens­es aid,
To see Thy won­drous love dis­played,
Thy brok­en flesh, Thy bleed­ing veins,
Thy dread­ful ago­niz­ing pains.

Let hum­ble, pe­ni­ten­tial woe
With pain­ful, pleas­ing ang­uish flow,
And Thy for­giv­ing smiles im­part
Life, hope, and joy to ev­ery heart.