Incarnate God! What Tongue Can Tell?

Incarnate God! what tongue can tell

The mys­te­ry of Em­ma­nu­el?

What hu­man lyre

what an­gel choir

Can sing that mar­vel pass­ing ken

The Word made flesh for sin­ful men?

Thine ad­vent

Lord

was pain and shame

Our world from Sa­tan to re­claim;

Oh

grace un­known

that from Thy throne

Thou cam’st to be des­pised of those

Thy love would res­cue from their woes.

A man of sor­rows

man of grief—

As if Thou wert the ve­ry chief

Of sin­ners lost

Thou cam’st the Host

O spot­less Lamb of God

to be

For man

his soul from death to free.

Yes

Thou was wound­ed

bruised

and torn

That we might heal­èd be

and born

To life again

and saved from pain;

And yet from Thee we hid our face

Who came from guilt to cleanse our race.

When

Je­su

Thou shalt come once more

Not poor and low­ly as of yore

But clothed in light

and full of might

More glo­ri­ous than ten thou­sand days

With an­gels peal­ing forth Thy praise.

The clouds of Heav­en Thy cha­ri­ot-throne

And crowned with ma­jes­ty Thine own

Grant I may stand on Thy right hand

A sin­ner

yet ab­solved by Thee

And wor­thy made Thy face to see.

With ea­ger eyes and long­ing heart

Thy Church would see Thee as Thou art;

Oh

hear her cry

her lone-lorn sigh

And hast­en

Lord

the pro­mised hour

When she will reach her brid­al bow­er.