IT PASSETH KNOWLEDGE, THAT DEAR LOVE OF THINE

It passeth knowledge, that dear love of Thine,
Lord Jesus, Saviour; yet this soul of mine
Would of Thy love, in all its breadth and length,
Its height and depth, its everlasting strength
Know more and more.

It passeth telling, that dear love of Thine,
Lord Jesus Saviour; yet these lips of mine
Would fain proclaim to sinners, far and near,
A love which can remove all guilt and fear,
And love beget.

It passeth praises, that dear love of Thine,
Lord Jesus, Saviour; yet this heart of mine
Would sing that love, so full, so rich, so free,
Which brings a rebel sinner, even me,
Nigh unto God.

But though I cannot sing, or tell, or know
The fullness of Thy love while here below,
My empty vessel I may freely bring;
O Thou, who art of love the living spring,
My vessel fill.

Then fill me, O my Saviour, with Thy love!
Lead, lead me to the living fount above;
Thither may I in simple faith draw nigh,
And never to another fountain fly,
But unto Thee.

And when, Lord Jesus, Thine own face I see,
When at Thy lofty throne I bow the knee,
Then of Thy love, in all its breadth and length,
Its height and depth, its everlasting strength,
My soul shall sing.