He died for me, for sinful me!
The bitter taunt, the stinging blow,
The smarting lash that made blood flow,
The crown of thorns pressed in His brow
Have proved His love to men ere now.
The cruel nails in hands and feet;
They made the sacrifice complete.
He died for me, for sinful me;
And, sinner, He has died for thee.
Canst thou refuse such matchless grace?
Oh, give the Lord his rightful place.
Dost thou now realize who died?
Twas very God they crucified.
Come! serve the Master so divine!
And perfect joy will then be thine.

E. W. Carlile