Mighty Love

O bliss of the purified! bliss of the free! I plunge in the crimson tide opened for me; O' er sin and uncleanness exulting I stand, And point to the print of the nails in his hand.

O! sing of his mighty love, Sing of his mighty love, Sing of his mighty love!- Mighty to save.

O bliss of the purified! Jesus is mine; No longer in dread condemnation I pine; In conscious salvation, I sing of his grace, Who lifteth upon me the light of his face.

O bliss of the purified! bliss of the pure! No wound hath the soul that his blood cannot cure; No sorrow-bowed head but may sweetly find rest, And be in his presence forevermore blest.

O Jesus the crucified! thee will I sing, My blessed Redeemer, my God, and my King; My soul filled with rapture shall shout o' er the grave, And triumph o' er death in the Mighty to save.