If I but knew thee as thou art, O loveliness unknown, With what desire, O Lord, my heart Would claim Thee for its own.

Thy glory would my shame conceal, Thy purity my dross: I should rejoice with Thee to feel The sorrow of the cross.

But I am dull and blind, O lord, Unapt of thee to learn; Thee I but dimly in thy word, As in a glass, discern.

With faith's warm finger, through the veil, I seek to touch Thy hand: I feel the imprint of the nail And partly understand.

But, ah, my lonely spirit tires Of knowing thee in part. O Jesus, how my soul desires To see thee as thou art!