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I to the hills will lift


    • I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God, 
    • to wash me in Thy cleansing blood; 
    • to dwell within Thy wounds; then pain 
    • is sweet, and life or death is gain. 

    • Take my poor heart, and let it be 
    • for ever closed to all but Thee; 
    • seal Thou my breast, and let me wear 
    • that pledge of love for ever there. 

    • How blest are they who still abide 
    • close sheltered in Thy bleeding side! 
    • Who life and strength from thence derive, 
    • and by Thee move, and in Thee live. 

    • What are our works but sin and death, 
    • till Thou Thy quickening Spirit breathe? 
    • Thou givest the power, Thy grace doth move: 
    • O wondrous grace! O boundless love! 

    • Ah, Lord, enlarge our scanty thought 
    • to know the wonders Thou hast wrought; 
    • unloose our stammering tongues to tell 
    • Thy love immense, unsearchable. ......

  • Album: Stand , Artist: Scottish Psalter, Language: English, Viewed: 658 times