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And can it be that I should gain
An interest in the Savior's
blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain
For me, who Him to death
pursued?
Amazing love! How can it be,
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?
'Tis mystery all: th'Immortal dies:
Who can explore His strange
design?
In vain the firstborn seraph tries
To sound the depths of love
divine.
'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore,
Let angel minds inquire no
more.
He left His Father's throne above
So free, so infinite His
grace
Emptied Himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam's helpless
race:
'Tis mercy all, immense and free,
For O my God, it found out me!
Long my imprisoned spirit lay
Fast bound in sin and nature's night;
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray,
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free;
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.
Still the small inward voice I hear,
That whispers all my sins
forgiven;
Still the atoning blood is near,
That quenched the wrath of
hostile Heaven.
I feel the life His wounds impart;
I feel the Savior in my heart.
No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in Him, is mine;
Alive in
Him, my living Head,
And clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach
th'eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.