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1 Lord when I read the traitor's doom,
To "his own place" consin'd,
What holy fear and humble hope
Alternate fill my mind!
2 Traitor to thee I too have been,
But sav'd by matchless grace,
Or else the lowest, hottest hell
Had surely been my place.
3 Thither I was by law adjudg'd,
And thitherward rush'd on;
And there in my eternal doom
Thy justice might have shone.
4 But lo! (what wondrous, matchless love!)
I call a place my own
On earth within the gospel sound
And at thy gracious throne.
5 A place is mine among thy saints,
A place at Jesu's feet,
And I expect in heaven a place
Where saints and angels meet.
6 Blest lamb of God, thy sovereign grace
To all around I'd tell,
Which made a place in glory mine,
Whose just desert was hell.
Source: A Selection of Hymns: from the best authors, intended to be an appendix to Dr. Watt's psalms and hymns. (1st Am. ed.) #DLXXX
First Line: | Lord, when I read the traitor's doom |
Title: | Hell, the Sinner's Own Place |
Author: | John Ryland |
Meter: | 8.6.8.6 |
Language: | English |
Copyright: | Public Domain |