None to Pity None to Care

None to pity, none to care,
See the Saviour dying there.
Piercéd hands and feet and side,
Crown of thorns worn for Thy bride.

King of Glory can it be,
Saviour, Thou would’st die for me?
Wretched creature of sins’ night,
Made fit for heaven, clothed with light.

Precious is Thy blood once shed,
Sheltered from God’s holy dread.
Not a sin or blemish seen,
By Thy blood washed spotless clean.

There upon the Father’s throne,
Worthless sinners Thou dost own!
Children of Thy boundless love,
Now to dwell with Thee above.


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