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.