At What A Cost

Chosen, redeemed, in the children’s place,

Holy and blameless before His face,

Once guilty, ruined, and lost;

Not e’en doth the light of His presence show

A single strain – washed whiter then snow;

But, ah! At what a cost!

Not glittering gems, nor silver and gold,

Not worlds though teeming with wealth untold,

Could for our ransom suffice.

No, the Church of God was bought with the blood

Of the holy, spotless Lamb of God;

This, was the costly price.

Oh wondrous truth! Deep in each breast

By the Spirit of God be it impressed,

And there by His power abide,

Grant, oh our God, that our life below

May brightly reflect the truths we know,

That Thou mayest be glorified.

M.A.S.