Classic Poem

Great was the price to justice due
When Jesus would redeem his bride;
Nothing but precious blood would do,
And that must flow from his own side.

Yet from the heights of bliss he fled
On wings of everlasting love,
And groan'd, and sigh'd, and wept, and bled,
The mountains of our guilt to move.

How glorious was the work he wrought
While dwelling in this earthly globe,
When each good deed and each pure thought
Conspir'd to weave our spotless robe!

Press'd in this robe, wash'd in this blood,
And ransom'd from the pow'r of hell,
We now have free access to God,
And justice likes the payment well.

Thus Jesus wrought our righteousness,
Our guilt sustain'd, our sorrows bore;
Secur'd our everlasting peace,
And triumph'd o'er the serpent's pow'r.

And now in heav'n he lives to plead
Before his holy Father's throne
What he has suffer'd in our stead;
And sends us gifts and graces down.

And soon will this dear Saviour come,
In majesty and glory drest,
And take his ransom'd children home
To seats of everlasting rest.