If I but knew Thee as Thou art,

O loveliness unknown,

With what desire, O Lord, my heart

Would claim Thee for its own.

 

 

 

 

Thy glory would my shame conceal,

Thy purity my dross:

I should rejoice with Thee to feel

The sorrow of the cross.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I am dull and blind, 0 Lord,

Unapt of Thee to learn;

Thee I but dimly in Thy word,

As in a glass, discern.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With faith’s warm finger,

through the veil,

I seek to touch Thy hand:

I feel the imprint of the nail

And partly understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, ah, my lonely spirit tires

Of knowing Thee in part.

O Jesus, how my soul desires

To see Thee as Thou art