1 How should the Lord keep back His sword from blood?
"The soul that sinneth it shall surely die:"
But ah, can Justice make His counsels good?
Can Law bring in the glory from on high?
2 "One poor wise man" hath cried, O God, to Thee;
His blood is counted precious in Thy sight.
He liveth, and His name shall ever be
Thy praise, Thy glory, Thy supreme delight.
3 The blood of bulls and goats for ages failed
To purge the conscience, burdened sore with sins;
Thy precious blood, O Lamb of God, prevailed —
Through Thee, sweet Peace her endless reign begins.
4 The precious blood of Christ, it speaketh peace
To guilty sinners, groaning 'neath their load;
To captive spirits it proclaims release,
And Pharaoh's slaves become the "hosts of God."
5 Oh, precious blood! Poured freely forth for me,
My sins are sunk beneath thy crimson tide.
No more before th' Avenger's sword I flee!
Christ is the Refuge-City, where I hide.