My Saviour for me bled
Upon the Cross’s Wood;
For me, the Sinner me, he shed
His rich atoning Blood.

For my Offences great
He dy’d a cursed Death;
And wrought Salvation out complete
To be enjoy’d by Faith.

The Wine-press he did tread,
And, thro’ his bleeding Side,
His Spirit, in Abundance, shed
On his belovde Bride.

Now, by his Grace, I know
That I am one of them,
For whom the Saviour dy’d below
Upon the Cross’s Stem.