1 Come see on bloody Calvary,
Suspended on th'accursed tree,
A harmless suff'rer cover'd o'er
With shame, and welt'ring in his gore.

2 Is this the Savior long foretold
To usher in the age of gold?
To make the reign of sorrow cease,
And bind the jarring world in peace?

3 'Tis He, 'tis He!--he kindly shrouds
His glories in a night of clouds,
That souls might from their ruin rise,
And heir the imperishable skies.

4 See, to their refuge and their rest,
From all the bonds of guilt releas'd,
Transgressors to his cross repair,
And find a full redemption there.

5 Jesus, what millions of our race
Have been the triumphs of thy grace!
And millions more to thee shall fly,
And on thy sacrifice rely.