How beauteous were the marks divine

How beauteous were the marks divine
That in thy meekness used to shine,
That lit thy path, O Son of God!
The lonely path thy feet have trod.

Oh, who like thee, so calm, so mild,
So patient, pure, and undefiled?
Oh, who like thee did ever go
So sinless through a world of woe?

Oh, who like thee so humbly bore
The scorn, the scoffs of men, before?
So meek, so lowly, yet so high,
So glorious in humility?

A suffering life by thee was led;
Thou hadst not where to lay thy head;
And since, O Lord, 't was all for me,
Shall I not gladly follow thee?

And death, that sets the prisoner free,
Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to thee;
Yet love through all thy torture glowed,
And mercy with thy life-blood flowed.

O wondrous Lord, my soul would be
Still more and more conformed to thee,
And learn of thee, the lowly One,
And like thee, all my journey run.