Words: , in the Scottish Translations and Paraphrases, 1745. Music: Vox Dilecti, , 1868. |
The Saviour comes, no outward pomp,
Bespeaks His presence nigh;
No earthly beauty shines in Him,
To draw the carnal eye.
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All beauty may we ever see,
In God’s belovèd Son,
The chiefest of ten thousand He,
The only lovely One!
Rejected and despised of men,
Behold a man of woe!
Grief was His close companion here,
Through all His life below.
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Yet all the griefs He felt were ours,
Ours were the woes He bore;
Pangs not His own, His spotless soul,
With bitter anguish tore.
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We all like sheep had gone astray,
In ruin’s fatal road;
On Him were our transgressions laid;
He bore the mighty load.
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