Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 2025 Edition

What’s this that in my soul is rising?
Is it grace?
Which makes me keep for mercy crying,
Is it grace?
This work that’s in my soul begun,
It makes me strive all sin to shun,
It plants my soul beneath the sun,
Mercy’s free!

Great God of love, I can but wonder,
Mercy’s free!
Though I’ve no price at all to tender,
Mercy’s free!
Though mercy’s free, our God is just,
And if a soul should e’er be lost,
This will torment the sinner most:
Mercy’s free!

This truth through all our life shall cheer us,
Mercy’s free!
And through the vale of death shall bear us,
Mercy’s free!
And when to Jordan’s bank we come,
And cross the raging billows’ foam,
We’ll sing, when safely landed home:
Mercy’s free!