1 Our sins were laid on the Saviour's head,
The curse by our Lord was borne;
For us a victim our Surety bled,
And endured that death of scorn;
Himself He gave our poor hearts to win
(Lord, never was love like Thine!)
From the paths of folly, and shame, and sin,
And fill them with joys divine.

2 Now void is the place where our Saviour lay
When He entered the gloomy grave;
That by death He the pow'r of death might slay
And His lambs from the lion save.
Oh! glorious time when the Victor arose!
He liveth, no more to die;
He hath bruised the head of our mighty foes,
For us was His victory!

3 The gates of heav'n are opened wide,
At His name all the angels bow;
The Son of man who was crucified
Is the King of glory now:
We love to look up and behold Him there,
The Lamb for His chosen slain;
And soon shall His saints all His glories share,
Withtheir Head and their Lord shall reign.