I. Recall, my heart, that dreadful hour,
When Jesus on the cursed tree
Infinite pains and sorrows bore—
Think, O my soul, was this for thee?

II. See, crown’d with thorns that sacred head,
With beams of glory once adorn’d!
That voice, which heav’n and earth obey’d,
Is now by traitors mock’d and scorn’d.

III. And see those lovely melting eyes,
Whence kind compassion often flow’d,
Now rais’d imploring to the skies,
For harden’d souls athirst for blood!

IV. Those healing hands with blessings fraught,
Nail’d to the cross with pungent smart!
Inhuman deed! could no kind thought
To pity move the ruthless heart?

V. But oh! what agonies unknown,
His soul sustain’d beneath the load
Of mortal crimes! how deep the groan
Which calm’d the vengeance of a God!

VI. He groan’d! he dy’d! the awful scene
Of wonder, grief, surprizing love,
Forever let my heart retain,
Nor from my Saviour’s feet remove.

VII. Jesus, accept this wretched heart,
Which trembling, mourning, comes to thee;
The blessing of thy death impart,
And tell my soul, ’tis all for me.

Added by

Blessy Christlin


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