HYMN 11
C. M.
Pardon brought to our senses.
Lord, how divine thy comforts are! How heav'nly is the place Where Jesus spreads the sacred feast Of his redeeming grace! | There the rich bounties of our God, And sweetest glories shine; There Jesus says that "I am his, And my Beloved's mine." | "Here," says the kind, redeeming Lord, And shows his wounded side; "See here the spring of all your joys That opened when I died." | [He smiles, and cheers my mournful heart, And tells of all his pain; 'All this," says he, "I bore for thee;" And then he smiles again.] | What shall we pay our heav'nly King For grace so vast as this? He brings our pardon to our eyes, And seals it with a kiss. | [Let such amazing loves as these Be sounded all abroad; Such favors are beyond degrees, And worthy of a God.] | To him that washed us in his blood Be everlasting praise; Salvation, honor, glory, power, Eternal as his days.] | |