1 As near to Calvary I pass,
Methinks I see a bloody cross,
Where a poor victim hangs,
His flesh with rugged irons tore,
His limbs all dressed in purple gore,
Gasping in dying pangs.

2 Surprised the spectacle to see,
I asked, Who can this victim be
In such exquisite pain?
Why thus consigned to woes, I cried,
’Tis I, the bleeding God replied,
To save a world from sin.

3 A God for rebel mortal dies;
How can it be? my soul replies,
What! Jesus die for me?
Yes, saith the suffering Son of God,
I give My life, I spill My blood,
For thee, poor soul, for thee.

4 Lord, since Thy life Thou’st freely giv’n
To bring my wretched soul to Heav’n,
And bless me with Thy love,
Then at Thy feet, O God, I’ll fall,
Give Thee my life, my soul, my all,
To reign with Thee above.