248 C. M. The true and living Way. Thou art the Way—to thee alone From sin and death we flee; And he who would the Father seek, Must seek him, Lord, by thee. 2 Thou art the Truth—thy word alone True wisdom can impart; Thou only canst inform the mind, And purify the heart. 3 Thou art the Life—the rending tomb Proclaims thy conquering arm; And those who put their trust in thee, Nor death nor hell shall harm. 4 Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life; Grant us that way to know, That truth to keep, that life to win, Whose joys eternal flow. 249 C. M. Blessed are all they, etc. Psalm 2:12. My Saviour! my almighty Friend! When I begin thy praise, Where will the growing numbers end— The numbers of thy grace? 2 Thou art my everlasting trust; Thy goodness I adore; And since I knew thy graces first, I speak thy glories more. 3 My feet shall travel all the length Of the celestial road; And march, with courage, in thy strength, To see my Father God. 4 How will my lips rejoice to tell The victories of my King! My soul, redeemed from sin and hell, Shall thy salvation sing. 250 C. M. Chief among ten thousand. Majestic sweetness sits enthroned Upon the Saviour’s brow; His head with radiant glories crowned, His lips with grace o’erflow. 2 No mortal can with him compare Among the sons of men; Fairer is he than all the fair Who fill the heavenly train. 3 He saw me plunged in deep distress, And flew to my relief; For me he bore the shameful cross, And carried all my grief. 4 To him I owe my life and breath, And all the joys I have! He makes me triumph over death, And saves me from the grave. 5 To heaven, the place of his abode, He brings my weary feet; Shows me the glories of my God, And makes my joys complete. 6 Since from thy bounty I receive Such proofs of love divine, Had I a thousand hearts to give, Lord, they should all be thine. 251 C. M. Altogether lovely. Jesus, I love thy charming name; ’Tis music to my ear; Fain would I sound it out so loud That all the earth might hear. 2 Yes, thou art precious to my soul, My transport and my trust; Jewels to thee are gaudy toys, And gold is sordid dust. 3 All that my ardent soul can wish In thee doth richly meet; Nor to my eyes is light so dear, Nor friendship half so sweet. 4 Thy grace shall dwell upon my heart, And shed its fragrance there; The noblest balm of all its wounds, The cordial of its care.