I.

Who can, or dares refuse to love,
The bleeding Lamb of God,
That from the glorious realms above,
Displays such grace abroad?

II.

He dies, he dies, and bows his head,
Upon the fatal tree,
To raise poor sinners from the dead,
And let the pris'ners free.

III.

O was there ever love like this
To rebels doom'd to hell!
Or was there ever grief like his!
His pain no tongue can tell.

IV.

'Wake ev'ry soul with sweet surprise,
And bid your fears adieu;
The mighty Saviour freely dies
For you, poor souls, for you.