1 O LORD, we know it matters nought,
How sweet the song may be,
No heart but of the Spirit taught
Makes melody to Thee.
2 Then teach Thy gathered saints, O Lord,
To worship in Thy fear;
And let Thy grace mould every word
That meets Thy holy ear.
3 Thou hast by blood made sinners meet,
As saints in light, to come
And worship at the mercy-seat,
Before the eternal throne.
4 Thy precious name is all we show,
Our only passport, Lord;
And full assurance now we know,
Confiding in Thy word.
5 O largely give, 'tis all Thine own,
The Spirit's goodly fruit;
Praise, issuing forth in life, alone
Our living Lord can suit.
