Christ the Sinner’s Hiding-place. Rom. 6. 23; 10. 4

J. Berridge                 148th

Where must a sinner fly,
Who feels his guilty load,
And stands condemned to die,
Out of the mouth of God?
Can any door of hope be found?
Not any sure, on nature’s ground.

What if he mend his life,
And pour out floods of tears,
And pray with fervent strife?
These pay no past arrears.
The law, with unrelenting breath,
Declares the wage of sin is death.

[Who then shall reconcile
Such jarring things as these?
Say, how can Justice smile
At Mercy on her knees?
Or how can Mercy lift her head,
Till all the legal debt is paid?]

Jesus, thy helping hand
Has made the contest cease,
Paid off each law demand,
And bought the blest release;
Stern Justice, satisfied by thee,
Bids Mercy bring the news to me.

O tidings sweet of grace,
To sinners lost and poor,
Who humbly seek thy face,
And knock at Mercy’s door;
Who taste the peace thy blood imparts,
And feel the Saviour in their hearts.

All hail! we bless thee now!
Who bought us with thy blood!
Our gracious Shepherd thou,
To bring us home to God.
On earth we sing thy bleeding love,
And long to see thy face above.


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