5 To thee we owe our wealth and friends,
And health, and safe abode;
Thanks to thy Name for meaner things,
But they are not my God.
6 How vain a toy is glittering wealth,
If once compar'd to thee;
Or what's my safety, or my health,
Or all my friends to me?
7 Were I possessor of the earth,
And call'd the stars my own
Without thy graces and thyself
I were a wretch undone.
8 Let others stretch their arms like seas,
And grasp in all the shore,
Grant me the visits of thy face,
And I desire no more.
Hymn 2:95.
Look on him whom they pierced, and mourn.
1 Infinite grief! amazing woe!
Behold my bleeding Lord:
Hell and the Jews conspir'd his death,
And us'd the Roman sword.
2 O the sharp pangs of smarting pain
My dear Redeemer bore,
When knotty whips and ragged thorns
His sacred body tore!
3 But knotty whips and ragged thorns
In vain do I accuse;
In vain I blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews.
4 'Twere you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.
5 'Twere you that pull'd the vengeance down
Upon his guiltless head:
Break, break, my heart, O burst mine eyes!
And let my sorrows bleed.