Though all the beasts that live and feed
Upon a thousand hills should bleed—
Though all their blood should flow,
The sacrifice would be in vain,
The stain of sin would still remain:
Sin is not cancelled so.
"A better sacrifice" than these
It needs, the conscience to appease
Or satisfy the Lord:
No blood hath virtue to atone
For man's offense, but His alone
Whose title is "The Word."
His who could say, Himself the Son,
"My Father and Myself are one,"
Who made the world around;
His, who Jehovah's Fellow stood,
And claimed equality with God,
Whose glory knows no bounds.
Jesus the Christ, on earth His name,
He came—in love to sinners came—
And bowed His head and died;
A full atonement now is made,
The ransom, by His death, is paid,
And justice satisfied.
That sinners might draw near to Him
God planned this great, this gracious scheme,
And found the ransom too:
Let all His saints their voices raise,
And sing the great Redeemer's praise
While endless ages flow.