How shall we sing the Love that sought?

Its breadth and length, its depth and height.

Its fullness passes all our thought,

As mid-day sun surpasses night.

What shall for us its length define?

No measure can to this extend:

The Love that died to make us thine

Has no beginning and no end.

Its height no angel wing can soar,

Far, far above all power and might;

Yet such His grace, for us in store,

To share the Holiest in the light.