Faith Is a Very Simple Thing

Faith is a ve­ry sim­ple thing

Tho’ lit­tle un­der­stood;

It frees the soul from death’s dread sting

By rest­ing in the blood.

It looks not on the things around

Nor on the things with­in

It takes its flight to scenes ab­ove

Beyond the sphere of sin.

It sees up­on the throne of God

A vic­tim that was slain;

It rests its all on His shed blood

And says

I’m born again.

Faith is not what we feel or see

It is a sim­ple trust

In what the God of love has said

Of Je­sus

as the Just.

The per­fect One that died for me

Upon His Fa­ther’s throne

Presents our names be­fore our God

And pleads Him­self alone.

What Je­sus is

and that alone

Is faith’s de­light­ful plea;

It nev­er deals with sin­ful self

Nor right­eous self

in me.

It tells me I am count­ed dead

By God in His own word;

It tells me I am born again

In Christ my ris­en Lord.

In that He died

He died to sin;

In that He lives—to God:

Then I am dead to na­ture’s hopes

And jus­ti­fied thro’ blood.

If He is free

then I am free

From all un­right­eous­ness;

If He is just

then I am just

He is my right­eous­ness.

What want I more to per­fect bliss?

A bo­dy like His own

Will per­fect me for great­er joys

Than an­gels round the throne.