When o’er my sins I sorrow,
Lord, I will look to Thee
And hence my comfort borrow
That Thou wast slain for me;
Yea, Lord, Thy precious blood was spilt
For me, O most unworthy,
To take away my guilt.

Oh, what a marvelous offering!
Behold, the Mas­ter spares
His servants, and their suffering
And grief for them He bears.
God stoopeth from His throne on high;
For me, His guilty creature,
He deigns as man to die.

My manifold trans­gress­ion
Henceforth can harm me none
Since Je­sus’ bloody passion
For me God’s grace hath won.
His precious blood my debts hath paid;
Of hell and all its torments
I am no more afraid.

Therefore I will for­ev­er
Give glo­ry unto Thee,
O Je­sus, loving Sav­ior,
For what Thou didst for me.
I’ll spend my breath in songs of thanks
For Thy sad cry, Thy sufferings,
Thy wrongs, Thy guiltless death.