O Je­sus my hope, for me of­fered up,
Who with cla­mor pur­sued Thee to Cal­va­ry’s top,
The blood Thou hast shed, for me let it plead,
And de­clare Thou hast died in Thy mur­der­er’s stead.

Thy blood, which alone for sin could atone,
For the in­fi­nite ev­il I mad­ly have done,
That on­ly can seal my par­don, and fill
My heart with a pow­er of ob­ey­ing Thy will.

Come then from above, its hard­ness re­move,
And van­quish my heart with the sense of Thy love;
Thy love on the tree dis­play un­to me.
And the ser­vant of sin in a mo­ment is free.

Neither pas­sion nor pride Thy cross can abide,
But melt in the fount­ain that streams from Thy side;
Let Thy life-giv­ing blood re­move all my load,
And purge my foul con­science, and bring me to God.

Now, now let me know its vir­tue be­low,
Let it wash me, and I shall be whit­er than snow;
Let it hal­low my heart, and ful­ly con­vert,
And make me, O Lord, in the world as Thou art.

Each mo­ment ap­plied my weak­ness to hide,
Thy blood be up­on me, and al­ways abide,
My ad­vo­cate prove with the Fa­ther above,
And speak me at last to the throne of Thy love.