When I see my Sav­ior, hang­ing on Cal­va­ry,
Bearing there for sin­ners bit­ter­est ago­ny.
Gratitude o’er­whelms me, makes mine eyes grow dim,
All my ran­somed be­ing cap­tive is to Him.

I can see the blood drops, red ’neath His thor­ny crown,
From the cru­el nail wounds now they are fall­ing down;
Lord, when I would wan­der from Thy love away,
Let me see those blood drops shed for me that day.

Why hast Thou for­sak­en? List to that sad, sad moan!
Oh, His heart was brok­en, suf­fer­ing there alone;
Broken then that mor­tals ne’er need cry in vain
For God’s love and com­fort, in the hour of pain.