While on the cross the Saviour bleeds, While friend nor foe his anguish heeds, While many a taunt and bitter jeer Break harshly on his holy ear,
He prays,— what can that last prayer be? Oh, wondrous love, he prays for me! Deep anguish fills his troubled soul, The streams of blood in torrents roll;
And louder railings now are heard; He breathes not one complaining word; Yet, hark! he prays,— what can it be? Oh, wondrous love, he prays for me!
He bows his head, Immanuel dies; Darkness o'erspreads the azure skies, Loud thunders shake the earth and air, And earthquakes heave in horror there;
Angels the act with wonder see; Oh, matchless love, he dies for me! He leaves the dark and gloomy grave, While angel-pinions round him wave,
And rising from the mountain's brow, Appears before his Father now; He pleads,— what can those pleadings be? Oh, deathless love, he pleads for me!
And can I then such scenes behold, And still be careless, still be cold? Can I, with air of sinful pride, Cast such unbounded love aside?
My soul, oh, can it, can it be? Has Jesus died in vain for thee? Oh, no! the crimson streams that glide From Calvary's deeply blood-stained side,
Invite my soul, so stained with sin, To wash away its guilt therein; And in those precious drops I see Christ has not died in vain for me!
The Saviour pleads, in thrilling tone, Before his mighty Father's throne, That for his sake my guilty name Within the book of life may claim
A place. He smiles; and now I see Christ does not plead in vain for me! Amazing love! what tongue can tell The wondrous depths that in thee dwell?
What angel's mind can e'er explore The riches of thy boundless store? Oh, matchless love beyond degree,— Christ bled, he died, and pleads for me!
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