1 Thou must increase, Lord, and I must decrease; yea, I offer
All that I have, though but poor is the gift that I proffer;
The poorest friend
Of the King's Son may attend
And be a guest at Thy supper.

2 Thou art exalted on high above angels and mortals;
Thou art acclaimed as their King by the heav'nly immortals;
I am of earth,
Sinful am I from my birth,
Unfit to enter Thy portals.

3 Yet hast Thou called me, Lord, to Thy Son's banquet in heaven;
Even to me has the welcome to glory been given;
Thou call'st me friend,
And to me Thou dost extend
Pardon, of sin and guilt shriven.

4 Fill Thou my heart, dear Lord, only with Thee as my treasure;
Fill Thou my soul with Thy Spirit in bountiful measure;
Emptied of mine,
Filled only with what is Thine,
Thy will my life's chiefest pleasure.

5 O that all nations might join in a chorus and praise Thee!
O that souls ev'rywhere, seeing Thy scars, might confess Thee!
May Thy dear voice
Move them to come and rejoice,
And as Thy friends ever bless Thee.