1 JESU, whose glory's streaming rays,
Though duteous to thy high command,
Not seraphs view with open face,
But veiled before thy presence stand;
2 How shall weak eyes of flesh, weighed down
With sin, and dim with error's night,
Dare to behold thy awful throne,
Or view thy unapproached light?
3 Restore my sight! let thy free grace
An entrance to the holiest give;
Open mine eyes of faith! thy face
So shall I see; yet seeing live.
4 Thy golden sceptre from above
Reach forth: see, my whole heart I bow:
Say to my soul, "Thou art my love,
My chosen 'midst ten thousand, thou!"
5 O Jesus, full of grace! the sighs
Of a sick heart with pity view;
Hark, how my silence speaks, and cries
"Mercy, thou God of mercy, show!"
6 I know thou canst not but be good;
How shouldst thou, Lord, thy grace restrain?
Thou, Lord, whose blood so freely flowed
To save me from all guilt and pain.