O Sing Of His Mighty Love

by Franke Bottome

Oh, bliss of the purified, bliss of the free!
I plunge in the crimson tide open'd for me!
O'er sin and uncleanness exulting I stand,
And point to the print of the nails in His hand.

Oh, bliss of the purified, Jesus is mine!
No longer in dread condemnation I pine;
In conscious salvation I sing of His Grace,
Who lifteth upon me the light of His face.

Oh, bliss of the purified! bliss of the pure!
No wound hath the soul that His blood cannot cure;
O Jesus the crucified! Thee will I sing,
My blessed Redeemer, my God and my King.

Chorus

Oh, sing of His mighty love,
Sing of His mighty love,
Sing of His mighty love,
Mighty to save.