O Lord! when faith with fixéd eyes Beholds thy wondrous sacrifice, Love rises to an ardent flame, And we all other hope disclaim. | 2 With cold affections who can see The thorns, the scourge, the nails, the tree, The flowing tears and crimson sweat, The bleeding hands, and head, and feet? | 3 Jesus, what millions of our race Have seen the triumphs of thy grace! And millions more to thee shall fly, And on thy sacrifice rely. | 4 The sorrow, shame, and death, were thine, And all the stores of wrath divine! Ours are the pardon, life, and bliss; What love can be compared to this! | |