Was it for sin, for mortal guilt,
The Savior gave His vital blood?
For sin amazing anguish felt,
The wrath of an offended God?
When bleeding, groaning, on the tree,
He breathed such agonizing cries,
When nature suffered, Lord, with Thee,
And darkness clothed the mourning skies.
And shall I harbor in my breast
(O tremble, soul, at such a deed)
This dreadful foe, this fatal guest?
’Twas sin that made my Savior bleed.
’Tis sin that would my ruin prove,
And sink me down to endless woe;
But O forbid it, heav’nly love,
And save me from the cursèd foe.
Ye sins, ye cruel sins, depart,
Your tyrant sway I cannot bear;
My rightful sovereign claims my heart,
And Christ alone shall govern here.
Come, glorious conqueror, gracious Lord,
Thy all-prevailing power employ;
O come, with Thy resistless word,
These hateful enemies destroy.
So guilty, weak, to Thee I fly,
My Lord, my Savior, and my friend,
On Thy almighty arm rely,
On Thy atoning blood depend.
All of my hope is fixed on Thee,
For Thou alone hast power divine;
O come, and conquer, Lord, for me,
And all the glory shall be Thine.