My Lord, My Love, Was Crucified

My Lord

my Love

was cru­ci­fied

He all the pains did bear;

But in the sweet­ness of His rest

He makes His serv­ants share.

How sweet­ly rest Thy saints ab­ove

Which in Thy bo­som lie;

The Church be­low doth rest in hope

Of that fe­li­ci­ty.

Thou

Lord

who dai­ly feed’st Thy sheep

Mak’st them a week­ly feast;

Thy flocks meet in their sev­er­al folds

Upon this day of rest.

Welcome and dear un­to my soul

Are these sweet feasts of love;

But what a Sab­bath shall I keep

When I shall rest above!

I bless Thy wise and won­drous love

Which binds us to be free;

Which makes us leave our earth­ly snares

That we may come to Thee.

I come

I wait

I hear

I pray

Thy foot­steps

Lord

I trace;

I sing to think this is the way

Unto my Sav­ior’s face.