Was it for sin, for mortal guilt,

Was it for sin, for mortal guilt,
The Saviour gave his vital blood;
For sin amazing anguish felt,
The wrath of an offended God?

And shall I harbour in my breast
(Tremble, my soul, at such a deed)
This dreadful foe, this fatal guest,
The sin that made the Saviour bleed?

Come, glorious Conqueror, gracious Lord,
Thy all-prevailing power employ;
O come, with thy resistless word,
These hateful enemies destroy.

My hope, my all is fixed on thee,
For thou alone hast power divine;
O come, and conquer, Lord, for me,
And all the glory shall be thine.