OXFORD TUNE.

Saviour of sinners, from thy death
Our spirits draw their heav'nly breath;
Thy dying groans with life abound,
And healing flows from ev'ry wound!

Thy sorrows are a fruitful tree,
Whereon rich blessings grow for me:
Thy spotless life a golden mine,
Where all my brightest treasures shine.

Out of thy fulness we receive
The grace and faith by which we live;
Thy broken body is our food,
The wine we drink is thy rich blood.

Thy righteousness is all our dress,
In which, before thy Father's face,
Perfect in beauty we appear,
Without one spot to raise a fear.

No holiness of life or thought
We know, but what thy grace has wrough
And thy good Spirit makes us do
Our heav'nly Father's will below.

Not unto us be glory, Lord,
To thee, thy Spirit, and thy word;
Salvation is alone of grace,
And grace alone shall have the praise!