Hymn 18.
WIth all the Powers my poor Soul hath,
Of humble Love, and loyal Faith,
Thus low, my God, I bow to thee,
Whom too much Love bow'd low'r for me.
Down busie Sense, Discourses die,
And all adore Faith's Mystery.
Faith is my Skill, Faith can believe,
As fast as Love▪ new Laws can give.
Faith is my Eye, Faith strength affords,
To keep pace with those gracious words;
And words more sweet, more sure than they
Love could not think, Truth could not say.
O dear memorial of that Death,
Which still survives, and gives us Breath!
Live ever, Bread of Life, and be
My Food, my Joy, my All to me.