1 And can it be that I should gain
an interest in the Saviour's blood?
Died he for me, who caused his pain--
for me, who him to death pursued?
Amazing love! How can it be
that thou, my God, shouldst die for me!

2 'Tis mystery all! The immortal dies:
who can explore his strange design?
In vain the first-born seraph tries
to sound the depths of love divine.
'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore,
let angel minds enquire no more.

3 He left his Father's throne above
(so free, so infinite his grace!)
emptied himself of all but love,
and bled for Adam's helpless race.
'Tis mercy all, immense and free:
for, O my God, it found out me.

4 Long my imprisoned spirit lay
fast bound in sin and nature's night:
thine eye diffused a quickening ray--
I woke; the dungeon flamed with light!
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed thee.

5 No condemnation now I dread:
Jesus, and all in him, is mine!
Alive in him, my living Head,
and clothed in righteousness divine,
bold I approach the eternal throne,
and claim the crown, through Christ, my own.