And is the bargain thought too dear,
To give for heaven our frail subsistence here?
To change our mortal with immortal homes,
And purchase the bright stars with darksome stones?
Behold! my God—a rate great as His breath!—
On the sad cross bought me with bitter death,
Did put on flesh, and suffer'd for our good,
For ours—vile slaves!—the loss of His dear blood.