Chief Among Ten Thousand; or, The Excellencies of Christ

1 To Christ, the Lord, let every tongue
Its nobles tribute bring:
When he's the subject of the song,
Who can refuse to sing?

2 Survey the beauties of his face,
And on his glories dwell,
Think of the wonders of his grace,
And all his triumphs tell.

3 Majestic sweetness sits enthron'd
Upon his awful brow;
His head with radiant glories crown'd,
His lips with grace o'erflow.

4 No mortal can with him compare,
Among the sons of men:
Fairer he is than all the fair
That fill the heavenly train.

5 He saw me plung'd in deep distress,
He fled to my relief:
For me he bore the shameful cross,
And carried all my grief.

6 To Heaven the place of his abode
He brings my weary feet;
Shews me the glories of my God,
And makes my joys complete.

7 Since from his beauty I receive
Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they should all be thine.


Source: A Collection of Evangelical Hymns #XL