1 What mean these jealousies and fears?
As if the Lord was loath to save,
Or lov'd to see us drench'd in tears,
Or sink with sorrow to the grave.

2 Does he want slaves to grace his throne?
Or rules he by an iron rod?
Loves he the deep despairing groan?
Is he a tyrant, or a God?

3 Not all the sins which we have wrought,
So much his tender bowels grieve,
As this unkind injurious thought,
That he's unwilling to forgive.

4 What though our crimes are black as night,
Or glowing like the crimson morn,
Immanuel's blood will make them white
As now through the pure ether borne.

5 Lord, 'tis amazing grace we own,
And well may rebel worms surprise;
But, was not thy incarnate Son
A most amazing sacrifice?

6 "I've found a ransom," saith the Lord,
"No humble penitent shall die?"
Lord, we would now believe thy word,
And thy unbounded mercies try!