1 O Holy Father, who in tender love
Didst give Thine only Son for us to die,
The while He pleads at Thy right hand above,
We in one Spirit now with faith draw nigh;
2 We are not worthy to be called Thy sons,
Nor gather up the fragments of Thy feast;
Yet look on us, Thy sorrowing contrite ones,
On us in Him our Advocate and Priest,
3 Oh, hear us, for Thou always hearest Him;
Behold us sprinkled with His precious blood;
And from between the shadowing cherubim
Shine forth, and grant us by this heav'nly food
4 And, Father, ere we leave Thy mercy-throne,
Bound by these sacred pledges, yet most free,
We give our hearts, and not our hearts alone,
But all we are and all we have to Thee;