I stand amazed in the presence

Of Jesus the Nazarene,

And wonder how He could love me,

A sinner condemned, unclean.

For me it was in the garden,

He prayed: "Not my will, but Thine."

He had no tears for His own griefs,

But sweat-drops of blood for mine.

In pity angels beheld Him,

And came from the world of light

To strengthen Him in the sorrows

He bore for my soul that night.

He took my sins and my sorrows,

He made them His very own;

He bore the burden to Calv'ry,

And suffered, and died alone.

When with the ransomed in glory

His face I at last shall see,

'Twill be my joy through the ages

To sing of His love for me.