O Christ He is the fountain,

O Christ He is the fountain, The deep, sweet well of life: Its living streams I've tasted Which save from grief and strife. And to an ocean fullness, His mercy doth expand; His grace is all-sufficient As by His wisdom planned.

O I am my Beloved's. And my Beloved's mine; He brings a poor vile sinner Into His house of wine! I stand upon His merit; I know no other stand. I'm hidden in his presence And held by His own hand.

The Bride eyes not her garment, But her dear Bridegroom's face; I will not gaze at glory. But on my King of grace: Not at the crown He giveth, But on His pierced hand; The Lamb is all the glory, And my eternal stand!