1 My song shall be of him who died
Upon the mount of Calvary;
His name, his blood, and nought beside
Shall be my theme eternally.

2 I view him in his infant form,
Poor, helpless, in a manger laid;
To rescue me, a worthless worm,
Th' eternal word my flesh was made.

3 At eight days old the Saviour bled;
To purge our filth his blood was spilt;
Thus all the members, in the head,
Were cleans'd from their parental guilt.

4 A man of sorrows was my Lord,
Tempted like me in ev'ry point;
That he true succour might afford
To tempted souls, who else would faint.

5 Despis'd and friendless was the lamb,
Abased to a low degree,
Refus'd by all with scorn and shame,
That he our faithful friend might be.

6 Mark how he loves his blood bought friends!
When in his greatest agony
He pleads for them, he them defends,
The're as the apple of his eye.

7 For when the multitude came on
To drag him to the painful tree;
Whom seek ye? (says the holy one)
If me you seek, the children free.

8 When thus accepted, in our stead,
Justice the sinner did release;
And for the members smote the head,
Chastis'd him for our breach of peace.