On Calvary we’ve adoring stood,
And gazed on that wondrous cross,
Where the holy, spotless Lamb of God
Was slain in His love for us;
How our hearts have stirred at that solemn cry,
While the sun was enrapt in night,
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?"
Most blessed, most awful sight.

Our sins were laid on His sacred head,
The curse by our Lord was borne;
For us a victim our Savior bled,
And endured that death of scorn;
Himself He gave our poor hearts to win–
(Was ever love, Lord, like Thine!)
From the paths of folly, and shame and sin,
And fill then with joys divine.

We’ve watched by the tomb where our Savior lay
When He entered the gloomy grave;
And by death the power of death might slay
And His lambs from the lion save.
Oh! glorious time when the Victor rose!
He liveth no more to die;
He hath bruised the head of our mighty foes,
For us was His victory!

The gates of heaven are opened wide,
At His name all the angels bow;
The Son of man who was crucified
Is the King of glory now:
We love to look up and behold Him there,
The Lamb for His chosen slain;
And soon shall His saints all His glories share,
With their Head and their Lord shall reign.

And now we draw near to the throne of grace,
For His blood and the Priest are there;
And we joyfully seek God’s holy face,
With our censer of praise and prayer.
The burning mount and the mystic veil,
With our terrors and guilt are gone;
Our conscience has peace that can never fail,
‘Tis the Lamb on high on the throne.