Acts 11: Waits my heart insensible

Waits my heart insensible
Thy mercy's power to know,
Cast the pitying look, and fill
My soul with sacred woe;
Then I to my Lord shall turn,
And conscious of the blood applied
Look on Him I pierced, and mourn
With Jesus crucified.
Thus my few remaining days
I would in sorrow spend,
Trampler on the God of grace
And murderer of my Friend j
Weeping till my Friend appears,
By Him, but not myself forgiven,
Till He wipes away my tears,
And comforts me in heaven.
Saviour and Prince, I lift
To Thee my flinty heart,
Who only dost the precious gift
Of penitence impart;
Clothed with omnipotence
Thou canst the stone remove,
Thou wilt bestow the contrite sense,
For Thou, O God, art Love.
I wait the powerful look
Of tenderness Divine,
The sight which many a heart hath broke
Almost as hard as mine;
The piteous spectacle
Of Jesus on the tree,
Which bids my wounded spirit feel
The death He bore for me.

Soon as Thy 'cross appears
The rocks again are rent,
Sinners dissolve in gracious tears,
And I, their chief repent!
I weep, and still weep on
Till Thou my sins remove,
Lamenting with my latest groan
That e'er I grieved Thy love.