This is an hymn by Isaac Watts, his Hymn 146 of Book 1, published in 1709.
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Characters of Christ; borrowed from inanimate things in Scripture by Isaac Watts, 1709
Go, worship at Immanuel's feet,
See in His face what wonders meet!
Earth is too narrow to express
His worth, His glory, or His grace.
The whole creation can afford
But some faint shadows of my Lord;
Nature, to make His beauties known,
Must mingle colors not her own.
Is He compared to wine or bread?
Dear Lord, our souls would thus be fed
That flesh, that dying blood of Thine,
Is bread of life, is heavenly wine.
Is He a tree? The world receives
Salvation from His healing leaves;
That righteous branch, that fruitful bough,
Is David's root and offspring too.
Is He a rose? Not Sharon yields
Such fragrancy in all her fields:
Or if the lily He assume,
The valleys bless the rich perfume.
Is He a vine? His heav'nly root
Supplies the boughs with life and fruit
O let a lasting union join
My soul the branch to Christ the vine!
Is He the head? Each member lives,
And owns the vital powers He gives;
The saints below and saints above
Joined by His Spirit and His love.
Is He a fountain? There I bathe,
And heal the plague of sin and death
These waters all my soul renew,
And cleanse my spotted garments too.
Is He a fire? He'll purge my dross;
But the true gold sustains no loss:
Like a refiner shall He sit,
And tread the refuse with his feet.
Is He a rock? How firm He proves!
The rock of ages never moves;
Yet the sweet streams that from Him flow
Attend us all the desert through.
Is He a way? He leads to God,
The path is drawn in lines of blood;
There would I walk with hope and zeal,
Till I arrive at Zion's hill.
Is He a door? I'll enter in
Behold the pastures large and green,
A paradise divinely fair;
None but the sheep have freedom there.
Is He designed the corner-stone,
For men to build their heaven upon?
I'll make Him my foundation too,
Nor fear the plots of hell below.
Is He a temple? I adore
Th' indwelling majesty and power
And still to this most holy place,
Whene'er I pray, I turn my face.
Is He a star? He breaks the night
Piercing the shades with dawning light;
I know His glories from afar,
I know the bright, the morning star.
Is He a sun? His beams are grace,
His course is joy and righteousness;
Nations rejoice when He appears
To chase their clouds and dry their tears.
O let me climb those higher skies,
Where storms and darkness never rise!
There He displays his power abroad,
And shines and reigns, th' incarnate God.
Nor earth, nor seas, nor sun, nor stars,
Nor heaven, His full resemblance bears;
His beauties we can never trace,
Till we behold Him face to face.
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