Thou Son of God ! the woman's seed
Who didst for us on Calv`ry bleed,
And bear our heavy load;
Spoiler of death's o'erwhelming power,
O'ercome by Thee in that dread hour;
Thou Holy One of God !

Thy blood we sing; by that alone,
With boldness to th' eternal throne,
Through Thee we now draw nigh
It blots out ev`ry stain of sin,
Washes the guilty conscience clean,
And makes th' accuser fly.

Behold us, Lord ! a feeble band,
In conflict with the foe we stand,
The ransom`d of Thy cross;
We sing the triumphs of Thy name;
All other glory here is shame,
All other gain's but loss.

8,8,6.              J. D. Deck