I have been "bought with a price"-
A price no pen can compute;
The wondrous grace of the Buyer
Forbids my soul to be mute.
Redemption, the price of my pardon,
Unties the string of my tongue-
The praise of my gracious Redeemer
By me shall ever be sung.

I have been "bought with a price"-
Th' Eternal was willing to die,
That I a poor worm of the dust
Might share His glory on high.'
Oh, wonder of wonders that He,
The Creator of heaven and earth,
Should assume the form of a servant-
Like sinful mortals have birth!

And He in that body so holy,
Bore all of my sins on the tree;
He paid what I never could pay,
And made me eternally free.
Not all the angels in heaven
Could do what my Saviour has done-
Erase my countless transgressions
And make me an heir and a son.

And now, with the joy of forgiveness,
How precious the truth He makes known;
He gives me the joy and the sweetness
Of knowing I'm ever His own.
Not all the legions of darkness
That run at Apollyon's command,
Can shatter my fortress of safety,
Or loosen the grip of His hand.

He opens up vistas of glory
And shows me His mansions of light;
I pant to be off to His presence-
Away from the curse and the blight;
But if He desires me to stay in
The vale where He suffered and died,
I'll joyfully sound His salvation
Till I share in the joys of the Bride.
How precious the thought of His coming!
The bliss of His presence to know,
To see Him, and hear Him, and worship,
While ages unendingly flow!
This hope is my solace in sorrow,
It smooths the rough pathway of life,
It gilds all the darkness with brightness,
Gives peace in the fiercest of strife.

The storm-clouds o'er nations that thicken,
The woe that is followed by woe,
But brighten His rainbow of praise-
Give this hope greater luster and glow.
The voices that echo His coming
Ring out o'er the sea and the land,
The omens that gleam on earth's dial
Proclaim that my Lord is at hand.

Then, come! blesssed Lord; call away
The blood-purchased Bride of Thy heart.
No longer delay, but speak Thou the word
That bids her from earth to depart.
Thy joy and her joy will then be complete,
While measureless ages roll by;
She'll then seethe infinite measure of love
That brought Thee from glory to die!

C. C. Crowston