Praise to thee, O dear Redeemer
1
Praise to thee, O dear Redeemer,
For the riches of thy grace;
Bow, my soul, no idle dreamer,
Worship him who saves the race;
He who reigned with God on high,
He who laid his glory by:
Sing his praises, sing his praises,
Sing of him who came to die.
2
How shall mortal man adore thee,
Thou the high, Immortal One?
Sinful dust might bow before thee
While the countless ages run;
Yet 't were vain to worship thee
Unless love the motive be.
O my Saviour! O my Saviour!
Grant this gift of love to me.
3
Vain are all the words I've spoken,
Lord, to show that love is mine;
Godly life shall be the token
Of my love for things divine.
This I covet, this bestow,—
Strength to live aright below;
Then how much thy child doth love thee,
O my Saviour, thou shalt know!