Chief Among Ten Thousand; or, The Excellencies of Christ

Verse 1

To Christ, the Lord, let every tongue Its nobles tribute bring: When he's the subject of the song, Who can refuse to sing?

Verse 2

Survey the beauties of his face, And on his glories dwell, Think of the wonders of his grace, And all his triumphs tell.

Verse 3

Majestic sweetness sits enthron'd Upon his awful brow; His head with radiant glories crown'd, His lips with grace o'erflow.

Verse 4

No mortal can with him compare, Among the sons of men: Fairer he is than all the fair That fill the heavenly train.

Verse 5

He saw me plung'd in deep distress, He fled to my relief: For me he bore the shameful cross, And carried all my grief.

Verse 6

To Heaven the place of his abode He brings my weary feet; Shews me the glories of my God, And makes my joys complete.

Verse 7

Since from his beauty I receive Such proofs of love divine, Had I a thousand hearts to give, Lord, they should all be thine.