Not all the blood of beasts
On Jew­ish al­tars slain,
Could give the guil­ty con­science peace
Or wash away the stain.

But Christ the heav’n­ly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away;
A sac­ri­fice of nob­ler name,
And rich­er blood than they.

My faith would lay her hand
On that dear head of Thine;
While like a pe­ni­tent I stand,
And there con­fess my sin.

My soul looks back to see
The bur­dens Thou didst bear,
When hang­ing on the curs­èd tree,
And hopes her guilt was there.

Believing, we re­joice
To see the curse re­move;
We bless the Lamb with cheer­ful voice,
And sing His bleed­ing love.