The Blood of Christ

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The blood of Christ, Thy spotless Lamb,
O God, is all my plea;
Naught else could for my sin atone;
I have no merit of my own,
Which I can bring to Thee.

No sacrifice save His Who bore,
My load upon the tree,
No other plea which lips could frame,
No other blood, no other name,
Accepted is by Thee.

Since Christ has entered by His blood,
The holiest on high;
By that same hallowed blood stained track,
Thou welcomest the wanderer back,
And biddest me draw nigh.

Oh, wondrous cross! Oh precious blood!
Oh death by which I live!
The sinless One, for me made sin,
Doth now His wondrous heart within,
Eternal refuge give.

By that blest cross, that cleansing blood,
I know His power to save;
The merits of His work confess,
I stand in Him completely blest,
A conqueror o’er the grave.