1 Aloud we sing the wond'rous grace,
Christ to his murderers bare,
Which made the tottering cross its throne,
And hung its trophies there.

2 "Father forgive," his mercy cried,
With his expiring breath,
And drew eternal blessings down
On those who wrought his death.

3 Jesus, this wond'rous love we sing,
And whilst we sing admire;
Breathe on our souls, and kindle there,
The same celestial fire.

4 Sway'd by thy dear example, we
For enemies will pray;
With love, their hatred, and their curse
With blessings will repay.