The days of pa­ra­dise were few,
Man lived not long in in­no­cence;
He sinned, and sin his off­spring slew,
Death passed on all for his of­fense.

Adam sur­vives through­out his race,
We do our father’s deeds by choice;
Like him, we shun our mak­er’s face,
And tremble at our judge’s voice.

Yet is our mak­er still our friend;
Man yet may meet his judge with joy;
God, in our na­ture, did not send
His Son to pun­ish and de­stroy.

He sent Him forth to seek and save
The lost, the dy­ing, and the dead,
Cancel the curse, de­spoil the grave,
And bruise for­ev­er Sa­tan’s head.

Thou, who Thy Son to us didst give,
That none who trust in Him should die;
Give us to Him that we may live—
To His aton­ing blood we fly.

Behold His sac­ri­fice of love,
So free­ly of­fered in our stead;
Behold Him at the throne ab­ove,
And save the souls for whom He bled.