How sweet, O Lord, Thy word of grace
Which bids a sinner seek Thy face,
And ne­ver seek in vain,
And ne­ver seek in vain;
That face, once set so steadfastly
To meet Thy cross of agony,
Can ne­ver me disdain,
Can ne­ver me disdain.

Thy visage, marred and crowned with thorn,
Thou didst not hide from grief and scorn,
Nor from the dew of night,
Nor from the dew of night;
Yet, in that face a love appears
Which scatters all my gloomy fears,
And fills my soul with light,
And fills my soul with light.

The heavens declare Thy power and love;
In all Thy works, below, above,
Thy majesty I trace,
Thy majesty I trace,
But mercy shines not in the skies,
And hope within my spirit dies,
Until I see Thy face,
Until I see Thy face.

The brightness of Thy glo­ry, Lord,
Fills Hea­ven and earth and written Word
With beams of heavenly grace,
With beams of heavenly grace;
But all the hosts of Hea­ven shine
With no such radiance divine
As Thy most blessèd face,
As Thy most blessèd face.