1 From whence this fear and unbelief?
Hast thou, O father, put to grief
Thy spotless son for me?
And will the righteous judge of men,
Condemn me for that debt of sin,
Which Lord, was charg'd on thee?

2 Complete atonement thou hast made,
And to the utmost farthing paid
Whate'er thy people ow'd;
How then can wrath on me take place,
If shelter'd in thy righteousness
And sprinkled with thy blood?

3 [If thou hast my discharge procur'd,
And freely in my room endur'd
The whole of wrath divine;
Payment, God cannot twice demand—
First, at my bleeding surety's hand,
And then again at mine.]

4 Turn then, my soul, unto thy rest;
The merits of thy great high-priest
Speak peace and liberty:
Trust in his efficacious blood;
Nor fear thy banishment from God,
Since Jesus dy'd for thee.