691. C. M. Noel. |We love him because he first loved us.|

1 If human kindness meets return,
And owns the grateful tie;
If tender thoughts within us burn
To feel that friends are nigh;

2 O, shall not warmer accents tell
The gratitude we owe
To Him who died, our fears to quell,
And save from death and woe?

3 While yet in anguish he surveyed
Those pangs he would not flee,
What love his latest words displayed;
|Meet, and remember me.|

4 Remember thee! thy death, thy shame,
Our sinful hearts to share!
O, memory, leave no other name
But his, recorded there.