1
How should the Lord keep back His sword from blood?
"The soul that sinneth it shall surely die:"
But ah, can Justice make His counsels good?
Can Law bring in the glory from on high?
Grace must provide a Lamb—a Ransom find;
Redeem by One whom death no more may bind.
"The soul that sinneth it shall surely die:"
But ah, can Justice make His counsels good?
Can Law bring in the glory from on high?
Grace must provide a Lamb—a Ransom find;
Redeem by One whom death no more may bind.
2
"One poor wise man" hath cried, O God, to Thee;
His blood is counted precious in Thy sight.
He liveth, and His name shall ever be
Thy praise, Thy glory, Thy supreme delight.
By Jesus' blood—that new and living way—
God's priests shall now within the holiest stay.
His blood is counted precious in Thy sight.
He liveth, and His name shall ever be
Thy praise, Thy glory, Thy supreme delight.
By Jesus' blood—that new and living way—
God's priests shall now within the holiest stay.
3
The blood of bulls and goats for ages failed
To purge the conscience, burdened sore with sins;
Thy precious blood, O Lamb of God, prevailed—
Through Thee, sweet Peace her endless reign begins.
Thy blood hath made redemption e'en for me;
Complete I stand, O risen Christ, in Thee.
To purge the conscience, burdened sore with sins;
Thy precious blood, O Lamb of God, prevailed—
Through Thee, sweet Peace her endless reign begins.
Thy blood hath made redemption e'en for me;
Complete I stand, O risen Christ, in Thee.
4
The precious blood of Christ, it speaketh peace
To guilty sinners, groaning 'neath their load;
To captive spirits it proclaims release,
And Pharaoh's slaves become the "hosts of God."
His flesh is meat—His blood is drink indeed;
He died, He rose, His people's cause to plead.
To guilty sinners, groaning 'neath their load;
To captive spirits it proclaims release,
And Pharaoh's slaves become the "hosts of God."
His flesh is meat—His blood is drink indeed;
He died, He rose, His people's cause to plead.
5
Oh, precious blood! poured freely forth for me,
My sins are sunk beneath thy crimson tide.
No more before th' Avenger's sword I flee!
Christ is the Refuge-City, where I hide.
My life's dark page, blood-sprinkled, gleameth white;
My name shines forth in heaven in words of light.
My sins are sunk beneath thy crimson tide.
No more before th' Avenger's sword I flee!
Christ is the Refuge-City, where I hide.
My life's dark page, blood-sprinkled, gleameth white;
My name shines forth in heaven in words of light.