Classic Poem

HYMN XLIII.

Behold the Saviour of the world
Embru'd with sweat and gore,
Expiring on that shameful cross,
Where he our sorrows bore!

Compassion for lost human race
Brought down heav'n's only son,
To veil in flesh his radiant face,
And for their sins atone.

Who can to love his name forbear,
That of his sufferings hears,
And finds the ransom of his soul
Was blood as well as tears?

Thy sacred blood, O son of God!
Which ran from many a wound;
When earth's and hell's malicious pow'rs
All compass'd thee around:

Till death's pale ensigns o'er thy cheeks
And trembling lips were spread;
Till light forsook thy dying eyes,
And life thy drooping head.

Joy for thy torments we receive,
Life in thy death have found;
For the reproaches of thy cross
Shall be with glory crown'd.

May we a grateful sense retain
Of thy redeeming love!
And live below like those that hope
To live with thee above!