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The Love of Christ, An Hymn.
  
  
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The Love of Christ, An Hymn.

The Rose of Sharon is my love,
Sweet both in scent and show;
The fairest lily I'll approve
That in the vallies grow.

284

My Christ is altogether fair,
The chief of thousands ten;
There's none with him that can compare
Among the sons of men.
More glorious than hills of prey
Is Jesus, who for me
Did a far richer ransom pay
Than thousand worlds can be.
The tongues and pens of men below,
And angels all above,
Cannot the thousandth part forth show
Of my Redeemer's love.
No hyperboles can be express'd,
Nor no conception frame,
Can any mortal in the least,
To celebrate his fame.
Yet I will sing my Jesus' praise,
Tho' in a lisping strain;
In hopes the time will come to pass,
I'll sing with notes more plain.
O well may I say, Love is strong,
And cannot quenched be,
By all the waters that belong
To rivers and the sea.
And oh the heighth, depth, breadth and length
Of Jesus' love to those,
Who, by his own free grace and strength,
With him by cov'nant close!
As for its height; it was in heav'n
Before the world was fram'd,
When we were by the Father giv'n
To him to be redeem'd:
Its depth brought him to earth below,
To hell, and to the grave;
For he God's wrath did undergo,
Our souls from hell to save.

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Its breadth extends from sea to sea,
To all the human race;
All Adam's sons will welcome be,
By faith that him embrace;
Yea from, and to, eternity
Its length is without change:
For whom he loves, he loves for ay:
Is not his love most strange?
O if I were beyond the skies
His glory to behold,
I'd ravish'd be with extasies
That here I could not hold.
There numbers numberless surround
His glorious throne above,
All bent his praises forth to sound
In songs of divine love.
No toil there is them to molest,
Nor ought like weariness;
No night is there, nor need they rest;
Their songs they never cease.
With expectation I will wait
Till that bless'd time shall come;
When my dear Lord shall me invite
Unto his presence home.