What Heavenly Man Or Lovely God


What mighty man, or lovely God,
Comes marching downward from the skies?
Array’d in garments roll’d in blood,
With joy and pity in his eyes?

The Lord! the Saviour! yes, ’tis he!
I know him by the smiles he wears!
Dear glorious man that died for me,
Drench’d deep in agonies and tears!

Lo! he reveals his shining breast,
I own those wounds, and I adore;
Lo! he prepares a royal feast,
Sweet fruit of those sharp pangs he bore!

Whence flow these favours so divine?
Lord! why so lavish of thy blood?
Why for such earthly souls as mine,
This heavenly wine, this sacred food?

‘Twas his own love that made him bleed,
That nail’d him to the cursed tree;
‘Twas his own love the table spread
For such unworthy worms as we!

Then let us taste the Saviour’s love;
Come, Faith, and feed upon the Lord:
With glad consent our lips shall move,
And sweet hosannas crown the board.