Author Unknown


BEHOLD, where in a mortal form

Appears each grace divine!

The virtues, all in Jesus met,

With mildest radiance shine.


To spread the rays of heavenly light,

To give the mourner joy;

To preach glad tidings to the poor,

Was His divine employ.


Lowly in heart, to all His friends

A friend and servant found,

He washed their feet, He wiped their tears,

And healed each bleeding wound.


’Midst keen reproach and cruel scorn,

Patient and meek He stood,

His foes ungrateful, sought His life;

He labored for their good.


In the last hour of deep distress,

Before His Father’s throne,

With soul resigned He bowed and said,

“Thy will, not Mine, be done!”


Be Christ our pattern and our guide!

His image may we bear;

Oh may we tread His holy steps,

His joy and glory share!


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