Good Friday

Day of loss and day of gain,
Day of peace and day of pain.
Thou art come to us again!

Death on thee hath done his worst,
Hell on thee his gates hath burst,
God on thee hath been accurst.

Yet the Death, which struck so high,
Doom'd its very self to die,
In the hour of victory.

And the Hell, which mutter'd low
Triumph at that deed of woe,
Felt the suicidal blow.

And the God accurst doth rise,
In the very hour He dies
Over all His enemies.

Mystery for high belief!
How, from depths of guilt and grief,
God doth work for man's relief.

Christ, on the accursed tree
Bound, to set the sinner free,
Triumphs in His agony.

Hell, whose deadly hate and pride
Heaven its very self defied,
Bows before the Crucified I

Mystery all thought above!
Death the birth of Life to prove!
Hate to be the womb of love!

Wonder of all wonders known!
Christ upon the cross alone
Makes the whole world's sins His own.

Horror of all horrors wrought!
Sinful man, whose soul was sought,
Sheds the blood by which he's bought!

Day ashamed a veil doth take,
Earth dismay 'd doth reel and quake,
And the very dead awake.

Jesus! Gentle Sufferer! 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? wilt Thou pray,
As for those who on that 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.