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God, I love Thee, not because I hope for Heaven thereby; Nor because they who love Thee not, Must burn eternally.

Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me Upon the Cross embrace; For me didst bear the nails and spear, And manifold disgrace;

And griefs and torments numberless, And sweat of agony; E'en death itself—and all for one Who was Thine enemy.

Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ! Should I not love Thee well? Not for the sake of winning Heaven, Or of escaping Hell;

Not with the hope of gaining aught; Not seeking a reward; But, as Thyself hast loved me, O ever-loving Lord.

E'en so I love Thee, and will love, And in Thy Praise will sing; Solely because Thou art my God, And my eternal King.

 

are the leaves, and sweet the flowers, And rich the hues of May; We see them in the gardens round, And market-paniers gay: 