Thou Son of God—the woman's seed
Who didst for us on Calv'ry bleed,
And bear our heavy load;
Spoiler of death's o'erwhelming power,
O'ercome by Thee in that dread hour;
Thou holy One of God!
Thy blood we sing; by that alone,
With boldness to th' eternal throne,
Through Thee we now draw nigh;
It blots out every stain of sin,
Washes the guilty conscience clean,
And makes th' accuser fly.
Behold us, Lord! a feeble band,
In conflict with the foe we stand,
The ransomed of Thy cross;
We sing the triumphs of Thy name;
All other glory here is shame,
All other gain's but loss.