Behold, where, in a mortal form,

Appears each grace divine;

The virtues, all in Jesus met,

With mildest radiance shine.

2 To spread the rays of heavenly light,

To give the mourner joy,

To preach glad tidings to the poor,

Was his divine employ.

3 ’Midst keen reproach, and cruel scorn,

Patient and meek he stood;

His foes, ungrateful, sought his life;

He labored for their good.

4 In the last hour of deep distress,

Before his Father’s throne,

With soul resigned, he bowed, and said,

“Thy will, not mine, be done!”

5 Be Christ our pattern and our guide;

His image may we bear;

O, may we tread his holy steps,

His joy and glory share!