Thirty pieces of silver,
Only the price of a slave;
But it was the priestly value
Of the Holy Son of God.
They weighed it out in the temple,
The price of the Saviour’s blood.
Thirty pieces of silver
Laid in Iscariot’s hand,
Thirty pieces of silver
And the aid of an armed band,
Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
Brought the humbled Son of God,
At midnight from the garden
Where His sweat had been as blood.
Thirty pieces of silver
Burn in the traitor’s brain,
Thirty pieces of silver,
O! it was hellish gain.
“I have sinned, and betrayed the guiltless.”
He cried, with a fevered breath,
And he cast them down in the temple
And rushed to a madman’s death.
Thirty pieces of silver,
Lay in the House of God,
Thirty pieces of silver,
But, O!’twas the price of blood.
And so, for a place to bury
The stranger in they gave
The price of their own Messiah,
Who laid in a borrowed grave.
It may not be for silver,
It may not be for gold,
But, still, by tens of thousands
Is this precious Saviour sold,
Sold for a godless friendship,
Sold for a selfish aim,
Sold for a petty trifle,
Sold for an empty name.
Sold, in the mart of science,
Sold in the seat of power,
Sold at the shrine of fortune,
Sold in pleasure’s bower.
Sold, where the awful bargain
None but the eye of God can see,
Ponder, my soul, this question -
Shall He be sold by thee?
Sold! O, God! what a moment -
Stifled is conscience’s voice.
Sold! a weeping angel
Records the fatal choice.
Sold, but the price of the Saviour
To a living coal shall turn
With the pangs of remorse forever
Deep, in the soul to burn.