Alas, and did my Savior bleed, and did my Sov'reign die? Would he devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?
Was it for crimes that I had done he groaned upon the tree? Amazing pity, grace unknown, and love beyond degree!
Well might the sun in darkness hide and shut its glories in, when Christ the mighty Maker died for man the creature's sin.
Thus might I hide my blushing face while his dear cross appears; dissolve my heart in thankfulness, and melt mine eyes in tears.
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.