A Passion Hymn

Ye that pass by, behold the Man!
The Man of Griefs, condemn'd for you!
The Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
Weeping to Calvary pursue.

See how His back the scourges tear,
While to the bloody pillar bound!
The ploughers make long furrows there,
Till all His body is one wound.

The abjects spit upon that face
Which prophets wish'd in vain to see,
On which the angels loved to gaze,
Pleased with His milder majesty.

Adored by angels, mock'd by men,
Speechless the form of guilt He wears;
Reviled, He answers not again,
But meekly all their insults bears.

Nor can He thus their hate assuage;
His innocence, to death pursued,
Must fully glut their utmost rage:
Hark! how they clamour for His blood!

"To us our own Barabbas give!
Away with Him," (they loudly cry,)
"Away with Him, not fit to live,
The vile Seducer crucify!"

Against his God the creature calls:
Accused and sentenced by the breath
Himself inspired, their Maker falls;
The Lord of Life is doom'd to death.

His sacred limbs they stretch, they tear,
With nails they fasten to the wood;
His sacred limbs — exposed, and bare,
Or only cover'd with His blood.

See there! His temples crown'd with thorns!
His bleeding hands extended wide,
His streaming feet, transfixt and torn!
The fountain gushing from His side!

Where is the King of Glory now!
The everlasting Son of God!
The' Immortal hangs His languid brow,
The' Almighty faints beneath His load!

Beneath my load He faints, and dies:
I fill'd His soul with pangs unknown;
I caused those mortal groans and cries,
I kill'd the Father's only Son.

O, Thou dear suffering Son of God,
How doth Thy heart to sinners move!
Help me to catch Thy precious blood,
Help me to taste Thy dying love.

Give me to feel Thy agonies,
One drop of Thy sad cup afford:
I fain with Thee would sympathise,
And share the sufferings of my Lord.

The earth could to her centre quake,
Convulsed, while her Creator died:
O, let my inmost nature shake,
And die with Jesus crucified!

At Thy last gasp the graves display'd
Their horrors to the upper skies:
O that my soul might burst the shade,
And, quicken'd by Thy death, arise!

The rocks could feel Thy powerful death,
And tremble, and asunder part:
O, rend with Thine expiring breath
The harder marble of my heart!

My stony heart Thy voice shall rent,
Thou wilt, I trust, the veil remove,
My inmost bowels shall resent
The yearnings of Thy dying love.

The grace I surely shall receive,
Thy death hath bought the grace for me
This is my whole desire, to live;
To live, and then to die in Thee.