Weary and sick with sin,
And on His shoulders brought me
Into His flock again.
While angels in His presence sang
Until the courts of heaven rang.
Oh, the blood that bought me!
Oh, the grace that brought me to the flock,
Wondrous grace that brought me to the flock!
And poured in oil and wine;
He whispered to assure me,
“I’ve found thee, thou art Mine:”
I never heard a sweeter voice,
It made my aching heart rejoice.
For me His blood was shed;
A mocking crown so thorny,
Was placed upon His head:
I wondered what He saw in me,
To suffer such deep agony.
The sunshine of His face,
While with adoring wonder
His blessings I retrace.
It seems as if eternal days
Are far too short to sound His praise.
All now is perfect rest;
I’m waiting for the morning,
The brightest and the best,
When He will call us to His side,
To be with Him, His spotless Bride.
Delete Comment
Are you sure you want to delete this comment?