Faith in the bleeding Lamb,

Faith in the bleeding Lamb,
O what a gift is this!
Hope of salvation in his name,
How comfortable 'tis!

Knowledge of what is right,
How God is satisfied,
A foe received a favourite,
An alien made a child;

Blessings, my friends, like these,
Are very, very great;
But soon they every one must cease,
Nor are they now complete.

Faith will to bliss give place;
In sight we hope shall lose;
For who needs trust for things he has,
Or hope for what he views?

The little too that's known,
Which, children-like, we boast,
Will fade, like glow-worms in the sun,
Or drops in ocean lost.

But love shall still remain,
Its glories cannot cease,
No other change shall that sustain,
Save only to increase.

Of all that God bestows,
In earth or heaven above,
The best gift saint or angel knows,
Or e'er will know, is love.

Love all defects supplies,
Makes great obstructions small;
'Tis prayer, 'tis praise, 'tis sacrifice,
'Tis holiness, 'tis all!

Descend, celestial Dove,
With Jesus' flock abide;
Give us that best of blessings, love,
Whate'er we want beside.