Art thou by lusts a captive led,
       Which breeds thy deepest grief?
To ransom captives is his trade,
       Thy husband's thy relief.

His precious name is JESUS, why?
       Because he saves from sin;
Redemption's right he won't deny,
       Thy husband's near of kin.

His wounds have sav'd thee once from woes,
       His blood from vengeance screen'd;
When heav'n, and earth, and hell were foes,
       Thy husband was a friend.

And will thy captain now look on,
       And see thee trampled down?
When, lo! thy champion has the throne,
       Thy husband wears the crown.

Yield not, though cunning Satan bribe,
       Or like a lion roar;
The Lion strong of Judah's tribe,
       Thy husband's to the fore.

And that he never will forsake,
       His credit fair he pawn'd ;
In hottest broils, then, courage take,
       Thy husband's at thy hand.

No storm needs drive thee to a strait,
       Who dost his aid invoke:
Fierce winds may blow, proud waves may beat;
       Thy husband is the rock.

Renounce thine own ability,
       Lean to his promis'd might;
The strength of Isra'l cannot lie,
       Thy husband's pow'r is plight.

An awful truth does here present,
       Whoever think it odd;
In him thou art omnipotent,
       Thy husband is a God.

JEHOVAH'S strength is in thy head,
       Which faith may boldly scan;
God in thy nature does reside,
       Thy husband is a man.

Thy flesh is his, his spirit thine;
       And that you both are one,
One body, spirit, temple, vine,
       Thy husband deigns to own.

Kind, he assum'd thy flesh and blood
       This union to pursue;
And without shame his brotherhood
       Thy husband does avow.

He bore the cross thy crown to win,
       His blood he freely spilt;
The holy One assuming sin,
       Thy husband bore the guilt.

Lo! what a bless'd exchange is this?
       What wisdom shines therein?
That thou might'st be made righteousness,
       Thy husband was made sin.

The God of joy a man of grief,
       Thy sorrows to discuss;
Pure Innocence hang'd as a thief:
       Thy husband lov'd thee thus.

Bright beauty had his visage marr'd,
       His comely form abus'd :
True rest was from all rest debarr'd,
       Thy husband's heel was bruis'd.

The God of blessings was a curse,
       The Lord of Lords a drudge;
The heir of all things poor in purse
       Thy husband did not grudge.

The Judge of all condemned was
       The God immortal slain:
No favour in the woful cause
       Thy husband did obtain.