Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 156

All glory and praise
To the Ancient of Days,
Who was born and was slain to redeem a lost race.

Salvation to God,
Who carried our load,
And purchased our lives with the price of His blood.

And shall He not have
The lives which He gave
Such an infinite ransom for ever to save?

Yes, Lord, we are Thine,
And gladly resign
Our souls to be fill'd with the fulness Divine.

We yield Thee Thine own,
We serve Thee alone,
Thy will upon earth as in heaven be done.
How, when it shall be
We cannot foresee;
But oh! let us live, let us die unto Thee.