1 O precious grace of God’s dear Lamb,
The grace that makes me what I am!
Thro’ all my life my cry shall be,
See what His grace has done for me.
Free grace, free grace shall be my song,
Till all the saints the sound prolong;
No works of mine can e’er atone,
For I am saved by grace alone.
2 ‘Twas grace that led my wand’ring feet
To find at last the mercy seat;
And grace arrays me in the dress
Of my Redeemer’s righteousness.
3 ‘Tis all of grace, the light, the strength,
That brings my soul to heaven at length;
That brightens all the cloudy way,
Till clouds are lost in endless day.