When o’er my sins I sor­row,
Lord, I will look to Thee
And hence my com­fort bor­row
That Thou wast slain for me;
Yea, Lord, Thy pre­cious blood was spilt
For me, O most un­wor­thy,
To take away my guilt.

Oh, what a mar­vel­ous of­fer­ing!
Behold, the Mas­ter spares
His ser­vants, and their suf­fer­ing
And grief for them He bears.
God stoop­eth from His throne on high;
For me, His guil­ty crea­ture,
He deigns as man to die.

My ma­ni­fold trans­gress­ion
Henceforth can harm me none
Since Je­sus’ bloody pas­sion
For me God’s grace hath won.
His pre­cious blood my debts hath paid;
Of hell and all its tor­ments
I am no more afraid.

Therefore I will for­ev­er
Give glo­ry un­to Thee,
O Je­sus, lov­ing Sav­ior,
For what Thou didst for me.
I’ll spend my breath in songs of thanks
For Thy sad cry, Thy suf­fer­ings,
Thy wrongs, Thy guilt­less death.