Bliss of the Pure

1O bliss of the pure ones!
O bliss of the free!
I've plung'd in the fountain once opened for me!
O'er sin and uncleanness exulting I stand,
And point to the nail prints in His holy hands,
And point to the nail prints in His holy hands.

2O bliss of the sav'd ones!
Christ Jesus is mine!
No more condemnation; no longer I pine.
In conscious salvation I sing of His grace Who lifted upon me the smiles of His face,
Who lifted upon me the smiles of His face.

3O bliss of the glad ones!
O bliss of the pure!
No wound hath the spirit that He cannot cure;
No head bow'd with sorrow but sweetly may rest,
No tears but may vanish on His loving breast,
No tears but may vanish on His loving breast.

4O crucified Jesus! of Thee will I sing,
My blessed Redeemer, my God and my King;
My soul fill'd with rapture, shall shout o'er the grave;
In Him will I triumph, the “Mighty to Save!”
In Him will I triumph, the “Mighty to Save!”