47. Thee prostrate I adore, The Deity that lies

Thee prostrate I adore, The Deity that lies

Beneath these humble veils, Concealed from human eyes;

My heart doth wholly yield, Subjected to Thy sway,

For contemplating Thee it wholly faints away.

Hail, Jesus, hail; do Thou, Good Shepherd of the sheep,

Increase in all true hearts the faith they fondly keep.

The sight, the touch, the taste, In Thee are here deceived;

But by the ear alone this truth is safe believed;

I hold whate'er the Son of God hath said to me;

Than this blest word of truth no word can truer be,

I see not with mine eyes, Thy Wounds, as Thomas saw;

Yet own Thee for my God with equal love and awe;

Oh grant me, that my faith may ever firmer be,

That all my hope and love may still repose in Thee.

Memorial sweet, that shows the death of my dear Lord;

Thou living bread, that life dost unto man afford;

Oh grant, that this my soul may ever live on Thee,

That Thou mayst evermore its only sweetness be.