The speaker thanks God not only for the redemption bought by Christ’s blood, but also for the faith that allows them to receive it. Without that gift of faith, even the sacrifice of Jesus would have been useless for us. The poem admits that, left to ourselves, we are spiritually blind, like a “distemper’d eye” that can’t stand the light, unable to see God’s goodness or the worth of His Son. That blindness brings misery, yet we naturally avoid the very hand that could heal us. The mood shifts from humble acknowledgement of weakness to a swelling gratitude: everything we have—salvation and the power to recognize and cherish the Saviour—comes from God. So the speaker’s praise isn’t merely for a past event, but for an ongoing, personal grace that makes that event effective. There’s a quiet joy here, a deep relief that faith itself is a gift, not an effort.
Praise for Faith — Summary
Of all the gifts Thine hand bestows, Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows Than my Redeemer's blood.
Faith too, the blood-receiving grace, From the same hand we gain; Else, sweetly as it suits our case, That gift had been in vain.
Till Thou Thy teaching power apply, Our hearts refuse to see, And weak, as a distemper'd eye, Shut out the view of Thee.
Blind to the merits of Thy Son, What misery we endure! Yet fly that Hand from which alone We could expect a cure.
We praise Thee, and would praise Thee more, To Thee our all we owe: The precious Saviour, and the power That makes Him precious too.