L. A. Bennett

O TEACH me what it meaneth:

That Cross uplifted high,

With One, the Man of Sorrows,

Condemned to bleed and die.

O teach me what it cost Thee

To make a sinner whole;

And teach me, Saviour, teach me

The value of a soul.


O teach me what it meaneth:

That sacred crimson tide,

The blood and water flowing

From Thine own wounded side.

Teach me that if none other

Had sinned, but I alone,

Yet still, Thy Blood, O Jesus,

Thine only, must atone.


O teach me what it meaneth:

Thy love beyond compare,

The love that reacheth deeper

Than depths of self-despair!

Yea, teach me, till there gloweth

In this cold heart of mine

Some feeble, pale reflection

Of that pure love of Thine.


O teach me what it meaneth,

For I am full of sin;

And grace alone can reach me,

And love alone can win.

O teach me, for I need Thee,

I have no hope beside,

The chief of all the sinners

For whom the Savior died.


O teach me what it meaneth,

The rest which Thou dost give

To all the heavy-laden

Who look to Thee and live.

Because I am a rebel

Thy pardon I receive:

Because Thou dost command me,

I can, I do believe.


O infinite Redeemer,

I bring no other plea,

Because Thou dost invite me

I cast myself on Thee.

Because thou dost accept me

I love and I adore;

Because Thy love constraineth,

I’ll praise Thee evermore.


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