1 Behold, where in a mortal form
Appears each grace divine!
The virtues, all in Jesus met,
With mildest radiance shine.

2 To spread the rays of heavenly light,
To give the mourner joy,
To preach glad tidings to the poor,
Was His divine employ.

3 'Midst keen reproach and cruel scorn,
Patient and meek He stood.
His foes, ungrateful, sought His life;
He labored for their good.

4 In the last hours of deep distress,
Before His Father's throne,
With soul resigned He bowed, and said,
"Thy will, not mine, be done!"

5 Be Christ our Pattern and our Guide!
His image may we bear!
O may we tread His holy steps,
His joys and glory share!