CCXC. CHRIST the Head of the Church.

JESUS, I sing thy matchless Grace,
That calls a Worm thine own;
Gives me among thy Saints a Place
To make thy Glories known.

Allied to Thee our vital Head,
We act, and grow, and thrive:
From Thee divided, each is dead,
When most he seems alive.

Thy Saints on Earth, and those above
Here join in sweet Accord;
One Body all in mutual Love,
And Thou, our common Lord.

O may my Faith each Hour derive
Thy Spirit with Delight;
While Death and Hell in vain shall strive
This Bond to disunite.

Thou the whole Body wilt present
Before thy Father's Face;
Nor shall a Wrinkle or a Spot
Its beauteous Form disgrace.