O perfect life of love!
All, all is finished now:
All that He left His throne above
To do for us below.
No work is left undone
Of all the Father willed;
His toil, His sorrows, one by one,
The Scripture have fulfilled.
No pain that we can share
But He has felt its smart;
All forms of human grief and care
Have pierced that tender heart.
In perfect love He dies;
For me He dies, for me;
O all-atoning Sacrifice,
I cling by faith to Thee.
Work then, O Lord, in me,
As Thou for me hast wrought;
And let my love the answer be
To grace Thy love hast brought.
Henry Williams Baker
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