CXCIII. The same.

MY Saviour, didst Thou die for me?
For me send forth that bitter Cry?
With bleeding Heart thy Wounds I see,
Prepar'd at thy Command to die.

By all thine Anguish on the Cross,
When GOD thy Father stood afar,
Rich in thy temporary Loss,
Thy Church is brought for ever near.

From far the Beamings of thy Throne
Reviv'd my sympathizing Heart;
Thy Love made Sinners Griefs thine own,
Mine in thy Joys must take its Part.

Midst all the Splendours of thy Reign,
Think on the Sorrows thou hast felt;
Nor let a Mourner weep in vain,
For whom thy precious Blood was spilt.

While thro' Earth's darkest Gloom I tread,
Dart to my Soul a chearing Ray;
And on the Confines of the Dead
Thy Pow'r, as Lord of Life, display.