Words: (1861-1919); trans­lat­ed from Ma­ra­thi to Eng­lish by (1870-1952).

Music: Wig­town, Scottish Psalter, 1635.


One who is all unfit to count
As scholar in Thy school,
Thou of Thy love hast named a friend
O kindness wonderful!

So weak I am, O gracious Lord,
So all unworthy Thee,
That even the dust upon Thy feet
Outweighs me utterly.

Thou dwellest in unshadowed light,
All sin and shame above
That Thou shouldst bear our sin and shame,
How can I tell such love?

Ah, did not He the heavenly throne
A little thing esteem,
And not unworthy for my sake
A mortal body deem?

When in His flesh they drove the nails,
Did He not all endure?
What name is there to fit a life
So patient and so pure?

So, Love itself in human form,
For love of me He came;
I cannot look upon His face
For shame, for bitter shame.

If there is aught of worth in me
It comes from Thee alone;
Then keep me safe, for so, O Lord,
Thou keepest but Thine own.