1 [Sitting around our Father's board,
We raise our tuneful breath;
Our faith beholds her dying Lord,
And dooms our sins to death.]
2 We see the blood of Jesus shed,
Whence all our pardons rise;
The sinner views th' atonement made,
And loves the sacrifice.
3 Thy cruel thorns, thy shameful cross,
Procure us heav'nly crowns;
Our highest gain springs from thy loss;
Our healing from thy wounds.
4 O! 'tis impossible that we
Who dwell in feeble clay,
Should equal suff'rings bear for thee,
Or equal thanks repay.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Sitting around our Father's board |
Title: | Grace and glory by the death of Christ |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |