Christ’s dying love; or, Our
pardon bought at a dear price.
How condescending and how kind
Was God’s eternal Son!
Our misery reach’d his heavenly mind,
And pity brought him down.
[When Justice by our sins provok’d
Drew forth its dreadful sword,
He gave his soul up to the stroke,
Without a murmuring word.]
[He sunk beneath our heavy woes
To raise us to his throne;
There’s ne’er a gift his hand bestows
But cost his heart a groan.]
This was compassion like a God,
That when the Saviour knew
The price of pardon was his blood,
His pity ne’er withdrew.
Now tho’ he reigns exalted high,
His love is still as great:
Well he remembers Calvary,
Nor lets his saints forget.
[Here we behold his bowels roll,
As kind as when he dy’d;
And see the sorrows of his soul
Bleed thro’ his wounded side.]
[Here we receive repeated seals
Of Jesus’ dying love:
Hard is the wretch that never feels
One soft affection move.]
Here let our hearts begin to melt,
While we his death record,
And with our joy for pardon’d guilt
Mourn that we pierc’d the Lord.