Accepted and complete on Thy right hand.
Wounded for my transgressions, stricken sore,
That I might "sin no more:"
Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee;
Bound, that I might be free;
Acquaint with grief, that I might only know
Fulness of joy in everlasting flow.
Thine was the chastisement, with no release,
That mine might be the peace;
The bruising and the cruel stripes were thine,