1 How beauteous were the marks divine,
That in Thy meekness used to shine,
That lit Thy lonely pathway, trod
In wondrous love, O Son of God!
2 O who like Thee, so mild, so bright,
Thou Son of man, Thou Light of light?
O who like Thee did ever go
So patient, through a world of woe?
3 O who like Thee so humbly bore
The scorn, the scoffs of men, before?
So meek, so lowly, yet so high,
So glorious in humility?
4 And death, that sets the prisoner free,
Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to Thee;
Yet love through all Thy torture glowed,
And mercy with Thy life-blood flowed.
5 O wondrous Lord, my soul would be
Still more and more conformed to Thee,
And learn of Thee, the lowly One,
And like Thee, all my journey run.