Upon Thine altar, Lord, I lay
My poor, my only sacrifice;
Thou wilt not turn Thy face away,
Wilt not a broken heart despise.
Though hard as stone, cold as the clod,
Mine,--for Thy tender mercles' sake,
Not with the vengeance of Thy rod,
But by thy loving-kindness break,
Break it, and bind it, wound and heal,
Yea kill to make alive again;
Impress it with Thy Spirit's seal,
The sacrifice were perfect then:--
Perfect, yet all unworthy still:
But while in Jesus I believe,
Who came on earth to do Thy will,
From His dear hands my gift receive.
Receive it, with His blood bedew'd,
Receive it, offer'd with His prayers,
And, in Thine image thus renew'd,
Enroll me with Thy kingdom's heirs.