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O Love Divine! whose constant beam Boston (Hamburg)
 

Hymn Code:
11232343233334
PDF Score
Hymnary.org
Organ
(CM) 		5/G 178.5kb
2.6mb
When I survey the wondrous cross Hamburg
8.8.8.8

Hymn Code:
11232343233334
PDF Score
Cyberhymnal
Hymnary.org
Organ
(CM) 		4/F 189.5kb
Video (JD)
 2.7mb
Simple Piano
(CM) 		4/F 488.7kb
Video (JD)
Midi
 2mb
Music Website
Small Band
(CM) 		4/F-Gb 274.5kb
Video (JD)
BIAB
BIAB Info
 3.3mb
Vocalist`s website
(BH) 		5/F-Gb
Vocals and Band		 264.4kb Sung Lyrics 4mb
Piano & Instrumental
(CM) 		4/F
Chord Sheet 		490.8kb
Midi
Midi Info
 3.3mb
(Please note: There maybe differences in the harmony, timing etc between the various recordings.
This is due to the actual hymnbook version I used at the time.)

O Love Divine! whose constant beam

Author: John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

O love Divine! Whose constant beam
Shines on the eyes that will not see,
And waits to bless us, while we dream
Thou leav’st us when we turn from Thee.

All souls that struggle and aspire,
All hearts of prayer, by Thee are lit;
And, dim or clear, Thy tongues of fire
On dusky tribes and centuries sit.

Nor bounds nor clime nor creed Thou know’st,
Wide as out need Thy favours fall;
The white wings of the Holy Ghost
Stoop unseen o’er the heads of all.

Truth, which the sage and prophet saw,
Long sought without, but found within,
The law of love beyond all law,
The life o’erflooding death and sin.

Shine, Light of God! Make broad Thy scope
To all who sin and suffer; more
And better than we dare to hope
Make with Thy love out longings poor.

When I survey the wondrous cross

Author: Isaac Watts

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

[Added by the compilers of Hymns An­cient and Mo­dern]

To Christ, who won for sinners grace
By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
Forever and forevermore.