1 Alas! and did my Saviour bleed, And did my Sovereign die? Would he devote that sacred head For such a worm as I?
2 [Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, thine, And bath'd in its own blood, While all expos'd to wrath divine The glorious Sufferer stood.]
3 Was it for crimes that I had done He groan'd upon the tree? Amazing pity! grace unknown! And love beyond degree!
4 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in, When God the mighty Maker dy'd For man the creature's sin.
5 Thus might I hide my blushing face While his dear cross appears, Dissolve my heart in thankfulness, And melt my eyes to tears.
6 But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe; Here, Lord, I give myself away, 'Tis all that I can do.