Blessed Saviour, Thee I love,
All my other joys above,
All my hopes in Thee abide,
Thou my hope, and naught beside:
Ever let my glory be,
Only, only, only thee.
Once again beside the cross,
All my gain I count but loss,
Earthly pleasures fade away,
Clouds they are that hide my day;
Hence, vain shadows, let me see
Jesus, crucified for me.
Blessed Saviour, Thine am I,
Thine to live, and Thine to die;
Height or depth, or earthly power,
Ne’er shall hide my Saviour more:
Ever shall my glory be,
Only, only, only Thee.
Not only is our hope in him, but he himself is our hope. “God our Saviour, and Lord Jesus Christ,” saith St. Paul, “our hope.” 1 Tim. 1:1. Yea, there is a deeper, nearer depth: “The glory of the mystery of the gospel,” says St. Paul, “is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Christ himself is our hope, as the only Author of it; Christ is our hope, as the End of it; and Christ, who is the Beginning and the End, is our hope also by the way; for he saith, “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Col. 1:27. Each yearning of our hearts, each ray of hope which gleams upon us, each touch which thrills through us, each voice which whispers in our inmost hearts of the good things laid up in store for us, if we will love God, are the light of Christ enlightening us, the touch of Christ raising us to new life, the voice of Christ, “Whoso cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out;” it is “Christ in us, the hope of glory,” drawing us up by his Spirit who dwelleth in us, unto himself our hope. For our hope is not the glory of heaven, not joy, not peace, not rest from labour, not fulness of our wishes, nor sweet contentment of the whole soul, nor understanding of all mysteries and all knowledge, not only a torrent of delight; it is “Christ our God,” “the hope of glory.” Nothing which God could create is what we hope for; nothing which God could give us out of himself, no created glory, or bliss, or beauty, or majesty, or riches. What we hope for is our Redeeming God himself, his love, his bliss, the joy of our Lord himself who hath so loved us, to be our joy and our portion for ever.
E. B. Pusey