Good-Friday (Jesus ! gentle suff'rer ! say)

Jesus! gentle suff'rer! say
How shall we, this dreadful day,
Near Thee draw, and to Thee pray?

We, whose proneness to forget
Thy dear love, on Olivet
Bathed Thy brow with bloody sweat; —

We, whose sins with awful power
Like a cloud did o'er Thee lower,
In that God-excluding hour; —

We, who still in thought and deed
Often hold the bitter reed
To Thee, in Thy time of need;—

Canst Thou pardon us, and pray,
As for those who on this day
Took Thy precious life away?

Yes! Thy blood is all my plea,
It was shed, and shed for me.
Therefore to Thy cross I flee.

At Thy feet, in dust and shame,
I dare breathe Thy Holy Name,
And a great salvation claim.

Save me. Saviour! stoop and take
Pity on my soul, and make
This day bright, for Thy dear sake.