Classic Poem

O, WEAK are my best thoughts, and poor
Is all that I can say;
Whether I lift my voice in praise,
Or kneel me down to pray!

Wherefore I thank Thee, gracious Lord,
Whose love provides for me
A higher and more perfect way
Of drawing nigh to Thee!

The way of Sacrifice! — ordain'd
When earth was in its prime;
Us'd by the hoary Patriarchs
All through the olden time.

To Israel's children in the law
Of trembling Sinai given;
To us in later days confirm'd
By Christ Himself from Heaven.

O, sweet ecstatic thought! 'tis mine
To offer, as of yore,
A sacrifice, and one in power
Excelling all before!

For me, upon an altar fair,
Is pleaded, day by day,
The Body and the Blood of Him
Whom Heav'n and earth obey.

For me is immolated still,
Again and yet again,
In the pure Host, the very Lamb
On Calvary's altar slain.

And as the scarcely buoyant plank,
Knit in the vessel's side,
With ease careers across the waves
O'er leagues of ocean wide,

So, too, though weak my prayer, O Lord,
Though poor my praises be,
Yet, knit with this high Sacrifice,
They win their way to Thee!