Christ is the Paschal Lamb, our sacrifice,
Christ is the offering, that made our peace,
Christ is the spotless Lamb, by God approv'd,
Which all the sins of all the world remov'd.

Christ is the Lamb, that for our sins was slain,
Christ for our soul transgressions suffer'd pain,
Christ's precious blood, as on the cross he bled,
For our iniquities was freely shed.

'Tis hard, 'tis sad, 'tis terrible to thought,
The Lamb shou'd suffer for its kindred's fault,
And that the Son of God shou'd e'er be slain
For our misdeeds, in agonizing pain.

Adam's intemperance our ruin wrought,
But Jesus suffer'd for the Patriarch's fault -
'Tis man, that sins - but Christ himself, that dies -
Did ever love to such a height arise?

Alas! what heart but must with pity bleed,
To see - Christ scourg'd for Adam's foul misdeed,
The Shepherd, for his flock to danger brought -
The Sov'reign, tortur'd for his subjects' fault.

To see, the Master sold, to buy the slave -
The Son condemn'd, his Father's foes to save,
The Doctor's side transfix'd with pointed steel,
That, with his blood he might his patients heal.