Praise for Faith

I

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

II

Faith too, the blood-receiving grace,
  From the same hand we gain;
Else, sweetly as it suits our case,
  That gift had been in vain.

III

Till thou thy teaching power apply,
  Our hearts refuse to see,
And, weak as a distemper’d eye,
  Shut out the view of thee.

IV

Blind to the merits of thy Son,
  What misery we endure!
Yet fly that hand from which alone
  We could expect a cure.

V

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.