O Mean May Seem This House of Clay

O mean may seem this house of clay

Yet ’twas the Lord’s abode;

Our feet may mourn this thor­ny way

Yet here Em­ma­nu­el trod.

This flesh­ly robe the Lord did wear

This watch the Lord did keep

These bur­dens sore the Lord did bear

These tears the Lord did weep.

This world the Mas­ter ov­er­came;

This death the Lord did die;

Oh

van­quished world! oh

glo­ri­ous shame!

Oh

hal­lowed ago­ny!

Oh

vale of tears

no long­er sad

Wherein the Lord did dwell!

Oh

ho­ly robe of flesh that clad

Our own Im­ma­nu­el!

Our ve­ry frail­ty brings us near

Unto the Lord of Heav­en;

To ev­ery grief

to ev­ery tear

Such glo­ry strange is giv­en.

But not this flesh­ly robe alone

Shall link us

Lord

to Thee;

Not only in the tear and groan

Shall the dear kin­dred be.

We shall be reck­oned for Thine own

Because Thy Heav­en we share

Because we sing around Thy throne

And Thy bright rai­ment wear.

Thou who wast cloth­èd in our clay

And strick­en in our stead

Wilt put on us Thy bright ar­ray

Thy joy on us wilt shed.

O migh­ty grace

our life to live

To make our earth di­vine:

O migh­ty grace

Thy Heav­en to give

And lift our life to Thine.