OF all the gifts thine hand bestows, Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows Than my Redeemer's blood. Faith too, the blood-receiving grace, From the same hand we gain; Else, sweetly as it suits our case, That gift had been in vain. Till thou thy teaching power apply, Our hearts refuse to see, And weak, as a distempered eye, Shut out the view of thee. Blind to the merits of thy Son, What misery we endure! Yet fly that hand from which alone We could expect a cure. We praise thee, and would praise thee To thee our all we owe; [more, The precious Saviour, and the power That makes him precious too. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABRAHAM LINCOLN (1) by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD THE CAP AND BELLS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE WASHINGTON BICENTENNIAL by CLARA BECK THE LAST MAN: SPEAKER'S MEANING DIMLY DESCRIBED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES LARABELLE; CANTO THIRD by LEVI BISHOP HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 47 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |