Classic Poem

Jehovah, we in hymns of praise
Thy matchless grace adore,
That grace that gave thy only son:
What couldst thou give us more?

He's all in all: his saints in him
Divine perfection view:
'Tis of his fulness they receive
All grace and glory too.

He freely gave his blood, the price
Of our eternal bliss:
Since no less could atone for sin,
His love would give no less.

He in the wine-press of thy wrath
For guilty men was crusht;
Humbled himself to die, and laid
His honour in the dust.

That we might at his table sit,
And be replenish'd there
With these dear pledges of his grace,
Till we his glory share.