Hymn CXXXIX. Common Metre. Christ the Head of his Church

Jesus, we sing thy matchless grace, That calls such worms thy own; Gives us among thy saints a place, And brings us near thy throne.

When join'd to thee, our vital head, Our virtues grow and thrive; From thee divided, each is dead, Though it may seem alive.

Thy saints on earth and those above All join in sweet accord; The body one, in mutual love, And thou our common Lord.

O may our humble faith receive Thy spirit with delight; Then time and death in vain shall strive, The bond to disunite.