Oh if my soul were formed for woe, How would I vent my sighs? Repentance should like rivers flow From both my streaming eyes. Chorus: 'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord Hung on the cursed tree, And groaned away His dying life, For thee, my soul, for thee.

Oh if my soul were formed for woe, How would I vent my sighs? Repentance should like rivers flow From both my streaming eyes. Chorus: 'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord Hung on the cursed tree, And groaned away His dying life, For thee, my soul, for thee.