1  How beauteous were the marks divine,

    That in Thy meekness used to shine,

    That lit Thy lonely pathway, trod

    In wondrous love, O Son of God!

 2  O who like Thee, so mild, so bright,

    Thou Son of man, Thou Light of light?

    O who like Thee did ever go

    So patient, through a world of woe?

 3  O who like Thee so humbly bore

    The scorn, the scoffs of men, before?

    So meek, so lowly, yet so high,

    So glorious in humility?

 4  And death, that sets the prisoner free,

    Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to Thee;

    Yet love through all Thy torture glowed,

    And mercy with Thy life-blood flowed.

 5  O wondrous Lord, my soul would be

    Still more and more conformed to Thee,

    And learn of Thee, the lowly One,

    And like Thee, all my journey run.