CCXCIII. CHRIST'S Love to the Church in giving himself for it, &c.

BRidegroom of Souls, how rich thy Love!
How gen'rous, how divine!
Our inmost Hearts it well may move,
While thus our Voices join.

Deform'd and wretched once we lay,
Worthy thy Hate and Scorn;
Yet Love like thine could find a Way
To rescue and adorn.

Thou art our Ransom; from thy Veins
A wond'rous Fountain flows
To wash thy Bride from all her Stains,
And heal our deepest Woes.

Transform'd by thee, ev'n here below
Thy Church is bright and fair:
But O! how glorious shall she shew,
When Jesus shall appear!

Thine Eye shall all her Form survey
With infinite Delight,
Confess'd, in that illustrious Day,
Unblemish'd in thy Sight.