Ye are not your own; Ye are bought with a price,
By blood have your souls been bought;
The blood of a spotless sacrifice,
That has opened the portal of Paradise
To creatures worse than naught.
Ye are not your own: ye have been redeemed
From the grasp of the monster fell,
By the Son of the Highest, so disesteemed,
So scorned, rejected, despised, blasphemed,
Whose sorrows no tongue can tell.
Ye are not your own: for naught ye were sold,
And by sin and by Satan chained,
But by better than silver, ay, or gold,
By wrath that over your Saviour rolled,
Your ransom has been obtained.
Ye are not your own: ye are brought to God
From the grasp of the gloomy grave,
By Him who came from His bright abode,
And took on Himself the heavy load
Of our sins, our souls to save.
Ye are not your own: ye are His thro’ grace,
That grace that the proud despise,
That found you steeped in rebellion base,
That turned you back in your headlong race
From the death that the sinner dies.
Ye are not your own: He has purchased you,
Ye are His, His own, by right,
By the bitter blast that against Him blew,
By the thousand sorrows that He passed thro’
In the depths of a wrathful night.
Ye are not your own: ye are His who bore
The wrath for your life of wrong;
His whom His blood-redeemed adore;
His who shall own you as His before
God and the angel throng.
Ye are not your own: ye are His by the might
Of the Holy Spirit given;
Ye are His in the sphere of eternal light,
Ye are His thro’ this world’s black godless night,
Ye are His in the earth and heaven.
Ye are not your own: ye are of His race
Whom the hosts in heaven laud;
Ye are His thro’ the woes that lined His face,
Ye are His by counsel, birth, blood, grace,
Ye are His by the love of God.