THERE is a green hill far away, 
 Without a city wall, 
Where the dear Lord was crucified, 
 Who died to save us all. 
 
We may not know, we cannot tell 
 What pains he had to bear, 
But we believe it was for us 
 He hung and suffer?d there. 
 
He died that we might be forgiven, 
 He died to make us good, 
That we might go at last to heaven, 
 Sav?d by his precious blood. 
 
There was no other good enough 
 To pay the price of sin; 
He only could unlock the gate 
 Of heaven, and let us in. 
 
O dearly, dearly has he lov?d, 
 And we must love him too, 
And trust in his redeeming blood, 
 And try his works to do.