Infinite love

A. W. Roach, 1929

O Lord, how dear art Thou to me –
The portion of my soul! How fair,
How lovable-surpassing sweet!
In Thee each grace and glory meet;
Who may with Thee compare?

O Lord, how dear art Thou to me –
Thy precious love! that nectar rare
To cheer yet soothe – invite to rest.
My head I pillow on Thy breast;
Who may not solace there?

O Lord, Thy head wore thorns for me!
Thy spear-pierced side gave scarlet flow!
Unquenched Thy love – though o'er the soul
The deeps of death their cataracts roll.
What anguish Thine to know!

O Lord, Thou gav'st Thyself for me!
Shall aught with Thee my heart divide?
Forbid it Lord! Thou, who hast wrought
In love transcending creature thought
And drawn me to Thy side.

Infinite Love! its height and depth
Divine in concept! None may trace
Or measure – tell its breadth and length:
Lord Jesus, may I prove its strength
Until I see Thy face.