Fountain of ne­ver ceas­ing grace,
Thy saints’ ex­haust­less theme,
Great object of im­mor­tal praise,
Essentially su­preme;
We bless Thee for the glo­ri­ous fruits
Thine in­car­na­tion gives;
The right­eous­ness which grace im­putes,
And faith alone re­ceives.

Whom Heav’n’s an­gel­ic host ad­ores,
Was slaugh­tered for our sin;
The guilt, O Lord was whol­ly ours,
The pun­ish­ment was Thine:
Our God in the flesh, to set us free,
Was ma­ni­fest­ed here;
And meek­ly bare our sins, that we
His right­eous­ness might wear.

Imputatively guil­ty then
Our sub­sti­tute was made,
That we the bless­ings might ob­tain
For which His blood was shed:
Himself He of­fered on the cross,
Our sor­rows to re­move;
And all He suf­fered was for us,
And all He did was love.

In Him we have a right­eous­ness,
By God Him­self ap­proved;
Our rock, our sure foun­da­tion this,
Which ne­ver can be moved.
Our ran­som by His death He paid,
For all His peo­ple giv’n,
The law He per­fect­ly ob­eyed,
That they might en­ter Heav’n.

As all, when Ad­am sinned alone,
In his trans­gress­ion died,
So by the right­eous­ness of One,
Are sin­ners jus­t­ified,
We to Thy mer­it, gra­cious Lord,
With hum­blest joy sub­mit,
Again to pa­ra­dise re­stored,
In Thee alone com­plete.

Our souls His watch­ful love re­trieves,
Nor lets them go as­tray,
His right­eous­ness to us He gives,
And takes our sins away:
We claim sal­va­tion in His right,
Adopted and for­giv’n,
His mer­it is our robe of light,
His death the gate of Heav’n.