1 Oh more than mer­ci­ful! whose boun­ty gave
Thy guilt­less self to glut the greedy grave!
Whose heart was rent to pay Thy peo­ple’s price;
The great high priest at once and sac­ri­fice!
Help, Sav­ior, by Thy cross and crim­son stain,
Nor let Thy glo­ri­ous blood be spilt in vain!

2 When sin with flow­ery gar­land hides her dart,
When ty­rant force would daunt the sink­ing heart,
When flesh­ly lust as­sails, or world­ly care,
Or the soul flut­ters in the fowl­er’s snare—
Help, Sav­ior, by Thy cross and crim­son stain,
Nor let Thy glo­ri­ous blood be spilt in vain!

3 And, chief­est then, when na­ture yields the strife,
And mor­tal dark­ness wraps the gate of life;
When the poor spi­rit, from the tomb set free,
Sinks at Thy feet and lifts its hope to Thee—
Help, Sav­ior, by Thy cross and crim­son stain,
Nor let Thy glo­ri­ous blood be spilt in vain!