1 O Lord, when condemnation
And guilt oppress my soul,
Then let Thy bitter passion
The rising storm control:
Remind me that Thy blood was spilt
For me, O most unworthy!
To take away my guilt.

2 O wonder passing measure
To faith's enlightened eye!
For slaves it ws the pleasure
Of their own Lord to die!
The mighty God stoops from on high
For me, lost, ruined creature,
And deigns as man to die.

3 My sins rise up to heaven,--
And countless is their lost;
But Christ Himself hath given,
And paid the mighty cost:
Since then on Him my sins were laid,
Of hell and all its torments,
I am no more afraid.

4 Henceforth my heart shall bless Thee
Whilst here its pulses move;
Its songs of praise address Thee
For all Thy dying love:
Thy wrongs and last deep agony
Shall be my meditation
Till I am called to Thee.

5 Lord, let Thy bitter passion
My soul with strength inspire
To flee with indignation
All sinful, low desire:
Ah! never would I, Lord, forget
The greatness of that ransom
Which paid my endless debt.

6 Should earthly griefs assail me,
If need be, shame and scorn,
Let patience never fail me
To bear as Thou hast borne:
Grant that the world I may forsake,
And Thee for my example,
Oh! may I daily take.

7 Still let me do to others
As Thou hast done to me,
And look on all as brothers,
Their willing servant be:
O may I never seek my own,
But help as Thou hast helped,
With purest love alone.

8 At length when I am bidden
With all things here to part,
The wounds in which I'm bidden
Speak peace into my heart;
Relying then upon Thy blood,
O give me full assurance
That I shall see my God.