1 Of him who did salvation bring,
I could forever think and sing;
Arise, ye needy,--he'll relieve;
Arise, ye guilty, he'll forgive.

2 'Tis thee I love, for thee alone
I shed my tears and make my moan;
Where'er I am, where'er I move,
I meet the object of my love.

3 Insatiate to this spring I fly;
I drink, and yet am ever dry:
Ah! who against thy charms is proof?
Ah! who that loves, can love enough?