Oh, bliss of the purified, bliss of the free,
I plunge in the crimson tide opened for me;
O’er sin and uncleanness
Exulting I stand,
And point to the print of the nails in His hand.

Refrain

Oh, sing of His mighty love,
Sing of His mighty love,
Sing of His mighty love,
Mighty to save.

Oh, bliss of the purified! Je­sus is mine,
No longer in dread condemnation I pine;
In conscious sal­va­tion
I sing of His grace,
Who lifted upon me the light of His face.

Refrain

Oh, bliss of the purified! bliss of the pure!
No wound hath the soul that His blood cannot cure;
No sorrow-bowed head
But may sweetly find rest,
No tears—but may dry them on Je­sus’ breast.

Refrain

O Je­sus the Cru­ci­fied! Thee will I sing,
My blessèd Re­deem­er, my God and my King;
My soul, filled with rapture,
Shall shout o’er the grave,
And triumph in death in the Mighty to Save.

Refrain