My Lord, My Master, at Thy Feet Adoring

My Lord

my Mas­ter

At Thy feet ad­or­ing

I see Thee bowed

Beneath Thy load of woe;

For me

a sin­ner

Is Thy life blood pour­ing;

For Thee

my Sav­ior

Scarce my tears will flow.

Thine own di­sci­ple

To the Jews has sold Thee

With friend­ship’s kiss

And loy­al word he came;

How oft of faith­ful

Love my lips have told Thee

While Thou hast seen

My false­hood and my shame.

With taunts and scoffs

They mock what seems Thy weak­ness

With blows and out­rage

Adding pain to pain;

Thou art un­moved

And stead­fast in Thy meek­ness;

When I am wronged

How quick­ly I com­plain!

My Lord

my Sav­ior

When I see Thee wear­ing

Upon Thy bleed­ing

Brow the crown of thorn

Shall I for plea­sure live

Or shrink from bear­ing

Whate’er my lot

May be of pain or scorn?

O Vic­tim of Thy love

O pangs most heal­ing

O sav­ing death

O wounds that I ad­ore

O shame most glo­ri­ous!

Christ

be­fore Thee kneel­ing

I pray Thee keep

Me Thine for ev­er­more.