When on my Beloved I gaze,
So dazzling His beauties appear,
His charms so transcendently blaze,
When from my own vileness I turn,
To Jesus exposed on the tree,
With shame and with wonder I burn,
My sins, how black they appear,
When in that dear bosom they meet!
My sins were the nails and the spear
Twas justice that wreathed for His head,
The thorns that encircled it round;
Your temples, Immanuel bled,
The wonderful love of His heart,
Where He has recorded my name,
On earth can be known but in part;
In rivers of sorrow it flowed,
And flowed in those rivers for me,
My sins are all drowned in His blood;
My soul is both happy and free!