1 My Lord, you wore no royal crown;
you did not wield the powers of state,
nor did you need a scholar's gown
or priestly robe, to make you great.

2 You never used a killer's sword
to end an unjust tyranny;
your only weapon was your word,
for truth alone could set us free.

3 You did not live a world away
in hermit's cell or desert cave,
but felt our pain and shared each day
with those you came to seek and save.

4 You made no mean or cunning move,
chose no unworthy compromise,
but carved a track of burning love
through tangles of deceit and lies.

5 You came unequalled, undeserved,
to be what we were meant to be;
to serve, instead of being served,
to pay for our perversity.

6 So when I stumble, set me right;
command my life as you require;
let all your gifts be my delight
and you, my Lord, my one desire.

Christopher Idle
© Christopher Idle/Jubilate Hymns
LM