In tenderness You sought me, Weary and sick with sin,
And on Your shoulders brought me into Your fold again.
While angels in Your presence sang until the courts of heaven rang.
Oh, the love that sought me! Oh, the blood that bought me!
Oh, the grace that brought me to the fold, Wondrous grace that brought me to the fold!
You washed the bleeding sin-wounds, And poured in oil and wine;
You whispered to assure me, ”I’ve found thee, thou art Mine:”
I never heard a sweeter voice, It made my aching heart rejoice.
You pointed to the nail-prints, For me Your blood was shed;
A mocking crown so thorny, Was placed upon Your head:
I wondered what You saw in me, To suffer such deep agony.
I’m sitting in Your presence, The sunshine of Your face,
While with adoring wonder Your blessings I retrace.
It seems as if eternal days Are far too short to sound Your praise.
So while the hours are passing, All now is perfect rest;
I’m waiting for the morning, The brightest and the best,
When You will call us to Your side, To be with You, Your spotless Bride.