How condescending and how kind Was God’s eternal Son! Our misery reached His heav’nly mind, And pity brought Him down. When Justice, by our sins provoked, Drew forth its dreadful sword, He gave His soul up to the stroke Without a murm’ring word. He sank beneath our heavy woes, To raise us to His throne; There’s ne’er a gift His hand bestows But cost His heart a groan. This was compassion like a God, That when the Savior knew The price of pardon was His blood, His pity ne’er withdrew. Now, though He reigns exalted high, His love is still as great; Well He remembers Calvary, Nor let His saints forget. Here we behold His bowels roll, As kind as when He died; And see the sorrows of His soul Bleed through His wounded side. Here we receive repeated seals Of Jesus’ dying love: Hard is the wretch that never feels One soft affection move. Here let our hearts begin to melt, While we His death record, And with our joy for pardoned guilt, Mourn that we pierced the Lord. |