1 The Lord, our Lord, how rich His grace!
What stores of sovereign love
For humble souls, that seek His face,
And to His footstool move!
2 He pleads the cause of all His saints,
When foes against them rise;
He listens to their sad complaints,
And wipes their streaming eyes.
3 He takes away that dreadful cup
Of fury and of plagues,
Which justice sentenced them to drink,
And wring the bitter dregs.
4 He gave it to their Savior’s hand,
And filled it to the brim;
Their Savior drank the liquid death,
That they might live by Him.
5 Now take the cup of life, He cries,
Where heav’nly blessings flow:
Drink deep, nor fear to drain the springs
To which the draught ye owe.
6 We drink, and feel our life renewed,
And all our woes forget:
We drink, till that transporting hour,
When we our Lord shall meet.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #12579