The sweet Lamb of God comes forth to be slain,

The sweet Lamb of God comes forth to be slain,
And offers his blood to purge off our stain;
With bitterest anguish and groans on the tree,
The Saviour did languish for sinners like me.

Look on him, my soul, and gaze on his smart;
His cries may control the lusts of thy heart;
His blood has set often the worst broken bones;
His love too can soften hearts harder than stones.

Right worthy indeed he is of high fame,
And saints have all need to trust in his name;
Not feed on their graces, nor strut with a frame,
But fall on their faces, and worship the Lamb.

Lo! here is a feast of delicate food,
For prodigals dressed, yet costly and good.
Our Father provided this Lamb for a treat;
And if you are minded, you freely may eat.

None other repast my spirit would have;
Thy flesh let me taste, sweet Lamb, and yet crave;
Thy blood ever flowing my pleasant cup be;
Thy fleece on earth growing make clothing for me.

Thus covered and fed at thy proper cost,
Thy path I would tread which pleases my host.
Thy patience inherit, thy lowliness prove,
Catch all thy sweet Spirit, and burn with thy love.