1 O God, I love thee; not that my poor love
May win me entrance to thy heav'n above,
Nor yet that strangers to thy love must know
The bitterness of everlasting woe.

2 But, Jesus, thou art mine, and I am thine;
Clasped to thy bosom by thine arms divine,
Who on the cruel Cross for me hast borne
The nails, the spear, and man’s unpitying scorn.

3 No thought can fathom and no tongue express
Thy griefs, thy toils, thy anguish measureless,
Thy death, O Lamb of God, the undefiled;
And all for me, thy wayward, sinful child.

4 How can I choose but love thee, God’s dear Son,
O Jesus, loveliest and most loving one!
Were there no heav'n to gain, no hell to flee,
For what thou art alone I must love thee.

5 Not for the hope of glory or reward,
But even as thyself hast loved me, Lord,
I love Thee, and will love thee and adore,
Who art my King, my God, forevermore.