O per­fect life of love!
All, all is fin­ished now;
All that He left His throne above
To do for us be­low.

No work is left un­done
Of all the Fa­ther willed;
His toil, His sor­rows, one by one,
The Scrip­ture have ful­filled.

No pain that we can share
But He has felt its smart;
All forms of hu­man grief and care
Have pierced that ten­der heart.

And on His thorn crowned head,
And on His sin­less soul,
Our sins in all their guilt were laid,
That He might make us whole.

In per­fect love He dies;
For me He dies, for me;
O all aton­ing Sac­ri­fice,
I cling by faith to Thee.

In ev­ery time of need,
Before the judg­ment throne,
Thy work, O Lamb of God, I’ll plead,
Thy mer­its, not my own.

Yet work, O Lord, in me,
As Thou for me hast wrought;
And let my love the an­swer be
To grace Thy love has brought.