1 Jesus, and him crucify'd,
Is mine, I want no more;
In his wounds I'm deep inlaid;
My name there standeth sure;
I am his, and he is mine;
My root is in the promis'd land;
I'm a branch of the true vine,
The plant of God's right hand.

2 In the Lamb, my fallow ground
Was plough'd with painful roil,
That which did with thorns abound
Is now a nobler soil:
Christ's the soil that's rich and good;
In him the lov'd plantation grows;
Water'd by his heav'nly blood,
Its merit always flows.