Jesus! I love Thy charming name,
‘Tis music to mine ear;
Fain would I sound it out so loud
That earth and heaven should hear!

Yes, Thou art precious to my soul,
My Transport and my Trust!
Jewels, to Thee, are gaudy toys,
And gold is sordid dust.

All my aspiring powers can wish,
Lord, Thou dost richly meet;
Nor to mine eyes is light so dear,
Nor friendship half so sweet.

Thy grace e’er dwells upon my heart,
And sheds its fragrance there-
The noblest balm for all its wounds,
A cordial for its care.

Come, let us join our songs of praise
To our ascended Priest!
He entered heaven with all our names
Engraven on His breast.

Below He purged our guilt away,
By His atoning blood:
Now He appears before the throne,
And pleads our cause with God.

Still Son of Man above, He knows
The weakness of our frame,
And how to shield us from the foes
Whom He Himself overcame.

Nor time, nor distance, o’er shall quench
The fervor of His love:
For us he died, our Ransom here-
For us He lives above.

Of all the gifts Thy love bestows
Thou Giver of all good!
Not heaven itself a richer knows,
Than the Redeemer’s blood.

Faith, too, that trusts the blood through grace,
From that same love we gain;
Else, sweetly as it suits our case,
The gift had been in vain.

We praise thee, and would praise Thee more;
To Thee our all we owe:
The precious Saviour, and the Power
That makes Him precious too.

When wounded sore, the stricken soul
Lies bleeding and unbound,
One only hand, a pierced hand,
Can heal the sinner’s wound.

When sorrow swells the laden breast,
And tears of anguish flow,
One only heart, a broken heart,
Can fell the sinner’s woe.

When penitence has wept in vain
Over some foul, dark spot,
One only stream, a stream of blood,
Can wash away the blot.

‘Tis Jesus’ blood that washes white,
His hand that brings relief,
His heart that’s touched with all our joys
And feeleth for our grief.

It is Thy bleeding hand, O Lord,
Unseals that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin,
But in thy wounded side.

All that I was-my sin, my guilt,
My death-was all my own;
All that I am, I owe to Thee,
My gracious God, alone!

The darkness of my former state,
The bondage, all was mine;
The light of life, in which I walk,
The liberty, is Thine.

Thy grace first made me feel my sin,
It taught me to believe;
Then, in believing, peace I found,
And now I live, I live!

All that I am, e’en here on earth,
All that I hope to be,
When Jesus comes and glory dawns,
I owe it, Lord, to Thee!

The vail is rent: our souls draw near
Unto a throne of grace;
The merits of the Lord appear,
They fill the holy place.

His precious blood has spoken there,
Before and on the throne;
And His own wounds in heaven declare
The atoning work is done.

‘Tis finished! here our souls have rest;
His work can never fail :
By Him, our Sacrifice and Priest,
We pass within the vail.

Within the holiest of all,
Cleansed by His precious blood,
Before the throne we prostrate fall,
And worship thee, O God!

Boldly the heart and voice we raise,
His blood, His name, our plea;
Assured our prayers and songs of praise
Ascend, by Christ, to Thee.

According to Thy gracious word,
In deep humility,
This will I do, my dying Lord,
I will remember Thee.

Thy body, given for my sake,
My bread from heaven shall be;
Thy blood my peace, this cup I take,
And thus remember Thee.

Gethsemane can I forget?
Or there Thy sorrow see,
Thine agony and bloody sweat,
And not remember Thee?

When to the cross I turn mine eyes,
And rest on Calvary,
O Lamb of God, blest Sacrifice,
I must remember Thee!

Remember Thee, and all Thy pains,
And all Thy love to me?
Yea, while a breath, a pulse remains,
I will remember Thee!

How sweet and holy is the place
With Christ within the doors,
Where everlasting love displays
The choicest of her stores!

While all our hearts and all our songs
Join to admire the feast,
Each of us cries with thankful tongue,
"Lord! why am I a guest?

"Why was I made to hear Thy voice,
And enter while there’s room,
When thousands make a wretched choice,
And rather starve than come?"

It was the same love that spread the feast,
That sweetly forced us in:
Else we had still refused to taste,
And perished in our sin.

There is a name I love to hear,
I love to sing its worth;
It sounds like music in mine ear-
The sweetest name on earth!

It tells me of a Saviour’s love,
Who died to set me free;
It tells me of His precious blood,-
The sinner’s perfect plea.

Jesus! the name I love so well,
The name I love to hear;
No saint on earth its worth can tell,
No heart conceive how dear.

This Name shall shed its fragrance still
Along the thorny road-
Shall sweetly smooth the rugged hill
That leads me up to God.

And there, with all the blood-bought throng
From sin and sorrow free,
I’ll sing the new eternal song
Of Jesu’s love to me.