Oh Christ, a thousand thousand sins,
Hath conquered with one work of grace;
Now how can I but follow him,
And seek my all in his dear face?
For he has stooped to call me his,
And hold me in his precious love,
And give me comfort in this hope,
That I will meet my Lord above.
Not only I, but multitudes,
Has he to them made himself known,
Have fallen asleep in their dear Christ,
And gone to their eternal home.