1 O that I had a seraph's fire,
His rapturous song and golden lyre,
To chant the love and grace supreme,
Revealed as in the gospel scheme.
2 Here's pardon full, for sins that's past,
It matters not, how black their cast;
And, O my soul, with wonder view,
For sins to come, here's pardon too.
3 When Jesus died, their debts were paid,
Whose sin lay on this Scape Goat's head;
Was to the trackless desert drove,
And buried in eternal love.
4 In this abyss of love profound,
when sought for they shall not be found;
Hid from Jehovah's piercing eye,
There in oblivious shades they lie.
5 The nation, thus redeemed from sin,
Were chosen, loved and blest in him;
And while he lives, they ne'er shall die,
For they are his by covenant-tie.
6 Let saints prepare to crown his brow
With bright immortal trophies, now;
And let their songs record his name,
His honors, and his deathless fame.
A New Selection of Hymns, 1812