Malleus Domini

Sledge of the Lord, beneath whose stroke
The rocks are rent — the heart is broke —
I hear thy pond'rous echoes ring,
And fall, a crushed and crumbled thing.
Meekly, these mercies I implore,
Through Him whose cross our sorrow bore:
On earth, thy new-creating grace;
In heaven, the very lowest place.
Oh, might I be a living stone,
Set in the pavement of thy throne!
For sinner saved, what place so meet,
As at the Saviour's bleeding feet!