It is a Thing Most Wonderful

It is a thing most wonderful,

almost too wonderful to be,

that God's own Son should come from heaven,

and die to save a child like me.

And yet I know that it is true:

he chose a poor and humble lot,

and wept, and toiled, and mourned, and died,

for love of those who loved him not.

I sometimes think about the Cross,

and shut my eyes, and try to see

the cruel nails and crown of thorns,

and Jesus crucified for me.

But even could I see him die,

I should but see a little part

of that great love, which, like a fire,

is always burning in his heart.

And yet I want to love thee, Lord;

O light the flame within my heart,

and I will love thee more and more,

until I see thee as thou art.