Rom. viii. 35.
Thee, Lord, my heart unfoldeth,
As the rose to the golden sun--
To Thee, Lord, mine arms are clinging,
The eternal joy begun.
For ever, through endless ages,
Thy cross and Thy sorrow shall be
The glory, the song, and the sweetness
That make heaven heaven to me.
Let one in his innocence glory,
Another in works he has done--
Thy Blood is my claim and my title,
Beside it, O Lord, I have none.
The Scorned, the Despised, the Rejected,
Thou hast won Thee this heart of mine;
In Thy robes of eternal glory
Thou welcomest me to Thine.