I SAW One hanging on a tree,
In agony and blood,

Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.

2 Sure, never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;

It seemed to charge me with His death, Though not a word He spoke.

3 A second look He gave, which said, "I freely all forgive;

This blood is for thy ransom paid;

I die that thou may'st live."

4 Thus while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.

257

John Newton 1779

To Calvary, Lord, in spirit now, Our weary souls repair,

To dwell upon Thy dying love, And taste its sweetness there.

AVON C. M.

3

2 Sweet resting-place of every heart
That feels the plague of sin,
Yet knows that deep mysterious joy,
The peace of God within.

3 There, through Thine hour of deepest woe, Thy suffering spirit passed;

Grace there its wondrous victory gained,
And love endured its last.

4 Dear suffering Lamb, Thy bleeding wounds, With cords of love divine,

Have drawn our willing hearts to Thee,
And linked our life with Thine.

5 Thy sympathies and hopes are ours:
Dear Lord, we wait to see
Creation, all below, above,

Redeemed and blest by Thee.

6 Our longing eyes would fain behold
That bright and blessed brow,
Once wrung with bitterest anguish, wear
Its crown of glory now.

Edward Denny 1839

H. WILSON

258

ALAS! and did my Saviour bleed,
And did my Sovereign die?

Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

2 Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

3 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut His glories in,

When God, the mighty Maker, died. For man, the creature's sin.

4 Thus might I hide my blushing face While His dear cross appears: Dissolve, my heart, in thankfulness! And melt, mine eyes, to tears!

5 But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe;

Here, Lord, I give myself away, "Tis all that I can do.

Isaac Watts

1707

4 What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?

O make me Thine forever;
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never,

Outlive my love to Thee Paul Gerhardt 1656
Tr. by James Waddell Alexander 1829

260

My sins, my sins, my Saviour!
Their guilt I never knew
Till, with Thee, in the desert
I near Thy passion drew;
Till, with Thee, in the garden,

I heard Thy pleading prayer,
And saw the sweat-drops bloody,
That told Thy sorrow there.
2 Therefore my songs, my Saviour,
E'en in this time of woe,
Shall tell of all Thy goodness
To suffering man below.
Thy goodness and Thy favor,
Whose presence from above,
Rejoice those hearts, my Saviour
That live in Thee and love.

John Samuel Bewley Monsell 186:

MAGDALENA 7s, 6s, D.

J. STAINER

25 b 262

THY life was given for me!

Thy blood, O Lord, was shed That I might ransomed be, And quickened from the dead. Thy life was given for me: What have I given for Thee? 2 Long years were spent for me In weariness and woe, That through eternity Thy glory I might know.

Long years were spent for me: Have I spent one for Thee? 3 Thy Father's home of light, Thy rainbow-circled throne, Were left for earthly night,

ST. BRIDE S. M.

For wanderings sad and lone. Yea, all was left for me: Have I left aught for Thee? 4 And Thou hast brought to me Down from Thy home above Salvation full and free,

Thy pardon and Thy love.

Great gifts Thou broughtest me:
What have I brought to Thee?

5 O let my life be given,

My years for Thee be spent!
World-fetters all be riven,
And joy with suffering blent.
Thou gavest Thyself for me:
I give myself to Thee.

Frances Ridley Havergal 1858
S. HOWARD

263

O PERFECT life of love!

All, all is finished now;

All that He left His throne above
To do for us below.

2 No pain that we can share
But He has felt its smart;
All forms of human grief and care
Have pierced that tender heart.

3 And on His thorn-crowned head,
And on His sinless soul,

Our sins in all their guilt were laid,
That He might make us whole.
4 In perfect love He dies:
For me He dies, for me:
O all-atoning Sacrifice,
I cling by faith to Thee.

Henry Williams Baker 1874