If asked where­on I rest my claim
To full sal­va­tion’s joy,
If no­thing more I need to name,
Or oth­er words em­ploy,
Besides our Sav­ior’s blood and wounds,
To me all-sa­tis­fy­ing grounds;
I an­swer then, My claim is good!
’Tis based on Je­sus’ blood.

This is my hope’s foun­da­tion firm,
Which ev­er shall en­dure;
Yea, at the end of life’s brief term,
I’ll rest there­on se­cure,
And dread­ed death shall lose its sting,
As of my Sav­ior’s wounds I sing;
His pre­cious blood shall be the key
That op­ens Heav’n for me.