How Beauteous Were the Marks Divine

How beau­te­ous were the marks di­vine

That in Thy meek­ness used to shine;

That lit Thy lone­ly path­way

trod

In won­drous love

O Lamb of God!

Oh! who like Thee

so calm

so bright;

So pure

so made to live in light?

Oh

who like Thee did ev­er go

So pa­tient through a world of woe?

Oh

who like Thee so hum­bly bore

The scorn

the scoffs of men

be­fore?

So meek

for­giv­ing

god­like

high

So glo­ri­ous in hu­mil­ity?

And all Thy life’s un­chang­ing years

A man of sor­rows and of tears

The cross

where all our sins were laid

Upon Thy bend­ing shoul­ders weighed.

E’en death

which sets the pri­son­er free

Was pain

and scoff

and scorn to Thee;

Yet love through all Thy tor­ture glowed

And mer­cy with Thy life­blood flowed.

Oh

in Thy light be mine to go

Illumining all my way of woe!

And give me ev­er on the road

To trace Thy foot­steps

Son of God!