The holy Lamb has died,
A victim on the tree,
For sinners He was crucified,
To set them free;
He bore the righteous stroke
Of God's right hand of power,
O'er Him the waves and billows broke,
In that dark hour.
Our sins were on Him laid,
He bowed beneath the load,
By Him the mighty debt was paid—
The debt we owed;
Now see Him on the throne
Who once on Calvary bled,
The One who did for guilt atone,
O'er all as Head.
The Father runs to meet
His lost and guilty son;
The robe, the ring, the sandaled feet,
Tell what He's done;
"The fatted calf bring here,
'Tis meet we merry be,
My son far off, is now brought near—
Rejoice with Me."
Come, guilty sinner, come,
Why wilt thou still delay?
Within the Father's house there's room,
Christ is the way;
The Father's kiss still waits,
For thee His heart doth mourn,
And open wide are thrown the gates,
Return! return!