Jesus' Sufferings and Death

269 A place called Gethsemane.

1 GO to dark Gethsemane, Ye that feel the tempter's power; Your Redeemer's conflict see;

Watch with Him one bitter hour;

Turn not from His griefs away;

Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

2 Follow to the judgment-hall, View the Lord of life arraign'd;

Oh, the wormwood and the gall!

Oh, the pangs His soul sustain'd!

Shun not suffering, shame, or loss;

Learn of Him to bear the cross.

3 Calvary's mournful mountain climb There, adoring at His feet, Mark that miracle of time, God's own sacrifice complete.

"It is finish'd!" hear Him cry;

Learn of Jesus Christ to die.

4 Early hasten to the tomb, Where they laid His breathless clay;

All is solitude and gloom: Who hath taken Him away?

Christ is risen:—He meets our eyes;

Saviour, teach us so to rise.

James Montgomery, 1825

270

Gethsemane

1 COME, all ye chosen saints of God, Who long to feel the cleansing blood, In pensive pleasure join with me To sing of sad Gethsemane.

2 Gethsemane, the olive-press!

(And why so call'd let Christians guess) Fit name, fit place, where vengeance strove, And griped and grappled hard with love.

3 'Twas here the Lord of life appear'd, And sigh'd, and groan'd, and pray'd, and fear'd;

Bore all incarnate God could bear, With strength enough, and none to spare.

4 And why, dear Saviour, tell me why Thou didst a bleeding sufferer lie?

What mighty motive could Thee move? The motive's plain—'twas all for love!

5 For love of whom? of sinners base; A harden'd herd, a rebel race; That mock'd and trampled on Thy blood, And wanton'd in the wounds of God.

6 Oh love of unexampled kind! That leaves all thought so far behind; Where length, and breadth, and depth, and height, Are lost to my astonish'd sight.

Joseph Hart, 1759, a.

271

Gethsemane

1 MANY woes had He endured, Many sore temptations met, Patient, and to pains inured: But the sorest trial yet Was to be sustain'd in thee, Gloomy, sad Gethsemane!

2 Came at length the dreadful night;

Vengeance with its iron rod Stood, and with collected might Bruised the harmless Lamb of God.

See, my soul, thy Saviour see, Prostrate in Gethsemane!

3 There my God bore all my guilt; This through grace can be believed; But the horrors which He felt Are too vast to be conceived.

None can penetrate through thee, Doleful, dark Gethsemane!

4 Sins against a holy God;

Sins against His righteous laws;

Sins against His love, His blood;

Sins against His name and cause;

Sins immense as is the sea—

Hide me, O Gethsemane!

5 Here's my claim, and here alone;

None a Saviour more can need;

Deeds of righteousness I've none;

No, not one good work to plead: Not a glimpse of hope for me, Only in Gethsemane!

6 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, One almighty God of love, Hymn'd by all the heavenly host In Thy shining courts above, We poor sinners, gracious Three, Bless Thee for Gethsemane.

Joseph Hart, 1759.

272

Gethsemane

1 IMMANUEL, sunk with dreadful woe, Unfelt, unknown to all below—

Except the Son of God— In agonizing pangs of soul, Drinks deep of wormwood's bitterest bowl, And sweats great drops of blood.

2 "O Father, hear! this cup remove;

Save Thou the darling of Thy love (The prostrate victim cries) From overwhelming fear and dread!

Though He must mingle with the dead— His people's sacrifice."

3 His earnest prayer, His deepening groans, Were heard before angelic thrones;

Amazement wrapt the sky:

"Go, strengthen Christ!" the Father said: The astonish'd seraph bow'd his head And left the realms on high.

4 Made strong in strength, renew'd from heaven, Jesus receives the cup as given And perfectly resign'd, He drinks the wormwood mix'd with gall, Sustains the curse, removes it all, Nor leaves a dreg behind.

Rippon's Selection, 1800.

273 "Thine Unknown Sufferings”

1 MUCH we talk of Jesu's blood, But, how little's understood! Of His sufferings, so intense, Angels have no perfect sense.

2 Who can rightly comprehend Their beginning or their end?

'Tis to God and God alone That their weight is fully known.

3 See the suffering Son of God, Panting, groaning, sweating blood!

Boundless depths of love divine!

Jesus, what a love was Thine!

4 Though the wonders Thou hast done, Are as yet so little known, Here we fix and comfort take, Jesus died for sinners' sake.

Joseph Hart, 1759.

274 His Passion

1 SEE how the patient Jesus stands, Insulted in His lowest case!

Sinners have bound the Almighty hands, And spit in their Creator's face.

2 With thorns His temple gored and gash'd Send streams of blood from every part; His back's with knotted scourges lash'd, But sharper scourges tear His heart.

3 Nail'd naked to the accursed wood, Exposed to earth and heaven above, A spectacle of wounds and blood, A prodigy of injured love!

4 Hark! how His doleful cries affright Affected angels, while they view; His friends forsook Him in the night, And now His God forsakes Him too!

5 Behold that pale, that languid face, That drooping head, those languid eyes!

Behold in sorrow and disgrace Our conquering Hero hangs, and dies!

6 Ye that assume His sacred name, Now tell me. what can all this mean?

What was it bruised God's harmless Lamb, What was it pierced His soul but sin?

7 Blush, Christian, blush: let shame abound If sin affects thee not with woe, Whatever life is in Thee found, The life of Christ thou dost not know.

Joseph Hart, 1759, a.

275 "A Crown of Thorns."

1 SACRED Head, once wounded, With grief and pain weigh'd down, How scornfully surrounded With thorns, Thine only crown!

How pale art Thou with anguish, With sore abuse and scorn!

How does that visage languish, Which once was bright as morn!

2 O Lord of life and glory, What bliss till now was Thine!

I read the wondrous story, I joy to call Thee mine.

Thy grief and Thy compassion Were all for sinners' gain;

Mine, mine was the transgression, But Thine the deadly pain.

3 What language shall I borrow To praise Thee, Heavenly Friend, For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?

Lord, make me Thine for ever, Nor let me faithless prove;

Oh let me never, never Abuse such dying love!

4 Be near me, Lord, when dying;

Oh show Thy cross to me;

And, for my succour flying, Come, Lord, to set me free:

These eyes new faith receiving, From Jesus shall not move, For he who dies believing, Dies safely through Thy love.

Bernard of Clairvaux, 1153. tr. Paul Gerhardt, 1659.

276

Jesus wounded

1 HOW clearly all His torturing wounds The love of Jesus show, Those wounds from whence encrimson'd rills Of blood atoning flow.

2 How doth th' ensanguined thorny crown That beauteous brow transpierce!

How do the nails those hands and feet Contract with tortures fierce!

3 He bows His head, and forth at last His loving spirit soars;

Yet even after death His heart For us its tribute pours.

4 Oh, come, all ye in whom are fix'd The deadly stains of sin;

Come, wash in His all-saving blood, And ye shall be made clean.

5 Praise Him, who with the Father sits Enthroned upon the skies; Whose blood redeems our souls from guilt, Whose Spirit sanctifies.

Edward Caswall. 1849, a.

277 Jesu's Sorrow

1 SEE the destined day arise!

See, a willing sacrifice, Jesus, to redeem our loss, Hangs upon the shameful cross!

2 Jesu, who but Thou had borne, Lifted on that tree of scorn, Every pang and bitter throe, Finishing Thy life of woe?

3 Who but Thou had dared to drain, Steep'd in gall, the cup of pain; And with tender body bear Thorns, and nails, and piercing spear?

4 Thence the cleansing water flow'd Mingled from Thy side with blood;

Sign to all attesting eyes Of the finish'd sacrifice.

5 Holy Jesu, grant us grace, In that sacrifice to place All our trust for life renew'd, Pardon'd sin, and promised good.

Richard Mant, 1837, a

278 "They Crucified Him."

1 OH come and mourn with me awhile;

Oh come ye to the Saviour's side;

Oh come together, let us mourn:

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

2 Have we no tears to shed for Him, While soldiers scoff and Jews deride?

Ah! look how patiently He hangs;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

3 How fast His hands and feet are nail'd; His throat with parching thirst is dried; His failing eyes are dimm'd with blood;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

4 Come let us stand beneath the cross; So may the blood from out His side Fall gently on us drop by drop;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

5 A broken heart, a fount of tears Ask, and they will not be denied;

Lord Jesus, may we love and weep, Since Thou for us art crucified.

Frederick William Faber, 1849. a

279 Weeping at the Cross

1 ALAS! and did my Saviour bleed? And did my Sovereign die? Would He devote that sacred head For such a worm as I?

2 Was it for crimes that I had done He groan'd upon the tree?

Amazing pity! grace unknown! And love beyond degree.

3 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in, When God, the mighty Maker died For man. the creature's sin.

4 Thus might I hide my blushing face, While His dear cross appears, Dissolve my heart in thankfulness, And melt my eyes to tears.

5 But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe;

Here, Lord, I give myself away;

'Tis all that I can do.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

280 The Attraction of the Cross

1 YONDER—amazing sight!—I see Th' incarnate Son of God Expiring on th' accursed tree, And weltering in His blood.

2 Behold, a purple torrent run Down from His hands and head, The crimson tide puts out the sun; His groans awake the dead.

3 The trembling earth, the darken'd sky, Proclaim the truth aloud; And with th' amazed centurion, cry, "This is the Son of God!"

4 So great, so vast a sacrifice May well my hope revive:

If God's own Son thus bleeds and dies, The sinner sure may live.

5 Oh that these cords of love divine Might draw me, Lord, to Thee!

Thou hast my heart, it shall be Thine!

Thine it shall ever be!

Samuel Stennett, 1787.

281 View of Christ Crucified

1 SWEET the moments, rich in blessing, Which before the cross I spend, Life and health, and peace possessing, From the sinner's dying Friend.

2 Here I'll sit for ever viewing Mercy's streams, in streams of blood;

Precious drops! my soul bedewing, Plead and claim my peace with God.

3 Truly blessed is this station, Low before His cross to lie;

While I see divine compassion Floating in His languid eye.

4 Here it is I find my heaven, While upon the cross I gaze;

Love I much? I've more forgiven;

I'm a miracle of grace.

5 Love and grief my heart dividing, With my tears His feet I'll bathe, Constant still in faith abiding, Life deriving from His death.

6 May I still enjoy this feeling, In all need to Jesus go;

Prove His wounds each day more healing And Himself more fully know.

James Allen, 1757 Walter Shirley, 1770.

282 Crucifixion to the World by the Cross

1 WHEN I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of Glory died, My richest Rain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride.

2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ, my God, All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.

3 See from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown!

4 His dying crimson, like a robe, Spreads o'er His body on the tree, Then am I dead to all the globe, And all the globe is dead to me.

6 Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all!

Isaac Watts, 1709.

283

Love in Agony.

1 THE enormous load of human guilt Was on my Saviour laid; With woes as with a garment, He For sinners was array'd.

2 And in the horrid pangs of death He wept, He pray'd for me;

Loved and embraced my guilty soul When nailed to the tree.

3 Oh love amazing! love beyond The reach of human tongue;

Love which shall be the subject of An everlasting song.

William Williams, 1759.

284 "The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all."

1 IN Jesu's name, with one accord, Lift up a sacred hymn, And think what healing streams He pour'd From every bleeding limb.

2 Oh who can tell what woes He bore When that pure blood was spilt, What pangs His tortured bosom tore When loaded with our guilt?

3 'Twas not the insulting voice of scorn So deeply wrung His heart; The piercing nail, the pointed thorn, Caused not the saddest smart:

4 But every struggling sigh betray'd A heavier grief within, How on His burden'd soul was laid The weight of human sin.

5 O Thou who hast vouchsafed to bear Our sins' oppressive load, Grant us Thy righteousness to wear, And lead us to our God.

William Hiley Bathurst, 1831.

285 "He loved me."

1 FOR me vouchsafed th' unspotted Lamb His Father's wrath to bear;

I see His feet, and read my name Engraven deeply there.

2 Forth from the Lord His gushing blood In purple currents ran; And every wound proclaim'd aloud His wondrous love to man.

3 For me the Saviour's blood avails, Almighty to atone; The hands He gave to piercing nails Shall lead me to His throne.

Augustus M. Toplady, 1759.

286 A Song for the foot of the Cross

1 NOW, my soul, thy voice upraising, Sing aloud in mournful strain, Of the sorrows most amazing, And the agonizing pain, Which our Saviour Sinless bore, for sinners slain.

2 He the ruthless scourge enduring, Ransom for our sins to pay;

Sinners by His own stripes curing, Raising those who wounded lay;

Bore our sorrows, And removed our pains away.

3 He to liberty restored us By the very bonds He bare; And His nail-pierced limbs afford us Each a stream of mercy rare:

Lo! He draws us To the cross, and keeps us there.

4 When His painful life was ended, When the spear transfix'd His side, Blood and water thence descended, Pouring forth a double tide: This to cleanse us, That to heal us, is applied.

5 Jesus! may Thy promised blessing Comfort to our souls afford; May we, now Thy love possessing, And at length our full reward, Ever praise Thee, As our ever-glorious Lord!

John Chandler, 1837, a.

287 A Song at the foot of the Cross

1 LET all our tongues be one, To praise our God on high, Who from His bosom sent His Son To fetch us strangers nigh.

2 Nor let our voices cease To sing the Saviour's name;

Jesus, th' ambassador of peace, How cheerfully He came!

3 It cost Him cries and tears To bring us near to God:

Great was our debt, and He appears To make the payment good.

4 Look up, my soul, to Him Whose death was thy desert,

1And humbly view the living stream Flow from His breaking heart!

6 There, on the cursed tree, In dying pangs He lies, Fulfils His Father's great decree, And all our wants supplies.

6 Lord, cleanse my soul from sin, Nor let Thy grace depart;

Great Comforter, abide within, And witness to my heart!

Isaac Watts, 1709.

288 The Cleansing Fountain

1 THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day;

Oh may I there, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away!

3 Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, Till all the ransom'd church of God Be saved to sin no more.

4 E'er since by faith I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave.

William Cowper, 1779.

289 Wonders of the Cross

1 NATURE with open volume stands, To spread her Maker's praise abroad; And every labour of His hands Shows something worthy of a God.

2 But in the grace that rescued man His brightest form of glory shines;

Here, on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn In precious blood and crimson lines.

3 Here I behold His Inmost heart, Where grace and vengeance strangely join, Piercing His Son with sharpest smart, To make the purchased pleasures mine.

4 Oh, the sweet wonders of that cross, Where God the Saviour loved and died! Her noblest life my spirit draws From His dear wounds and bleeding side

5 I would for ever speak His name, In sounds to mortal ears unknown; With angels join to praise the Lamb, And worship at His Father's throne.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

290 Depths of Wisdom in the Cross

1 AWAKE, my soul, and rise Amazed, and yonder see, How hangs the mighty Saviour God, Upon a cursed tree!

2 Now gloriously fulfill'd Is that most ancient plan, Contrived in the Eternal Mind Before the world began.

3 Here depths of wisdom shine, Which angels cannot trace; The highest rank of cherubim Still lost in wonder gaze.

4 Here free salvation reigns, And carries all before; And this shall, for the guilty race, Be refuge evermore.

5 Now Hell in all her strength, Her rage, and boasted sway, Can never snatch a wand'ring sheep From Jesus' arms away.

William Williams, 1772

291 The Shepherd Smitten

1 LIKE sheep we went astray, And broke the fold of God;

Each wandering in a different way, But all the downward road.

2 How dreadful was the hour When God our wanderings laid, And did at once His vengeance pour Upon the Shepherd's head!

3 How glorious was the grace When Christ sustain'd the stroke! His life and blood the Shepherd pays, A ransom for the flock.

4 His honour and His breath Were taken both away;

Join'd with the wicked in His death, And made as vile as they:

5 But God shall raise His head O'er sons of men to reign, And make Him see a numerous seed, To recompense His pain.

6 "I'll give Him," saith the Lord, "A portion with the strong;

He shall possess a large reward, And hold His honours long."

Isaac Watts, 1709, c

292 The Three Mountains

1 WHEN on Sinai's top I see God descend in majesty, To proclaim His holy law, All my spirit sinks with awe.

2 When, in ecstasy sublime,"

Tabors glorious steep I climb, At the too-transporting light, Darkness rushes o'er my sight.

3 When on Calvary I rest, God, in flesh made manifest, Shines in my Redeemer's face, Full of beauty, truth, and grace.

4 Here I would for ever stay, Weep and gaze my soul away;

Thou art heaven on earth to me, Lovely, mournful, Calvary.

James Montgomery, 1812.

293 "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me."

1 BEHOLD th' amazing sight, The Saviour lifted high!

Behold the Son of God's delight, Expire in agony!

2 For whom, for whom, my heart, Were all these sorrows borne?

Why did He feel that piercing smart, And meet that various scorn?

3 For love of us He bled, And all in torture died:

'Twas love that bow'd His fainting head, And oped His gushing side.

4 I see, and I adore, In sympathy of love:

I feel the strong attractive power, To lift my soul above.

5 Drawn by such cords as these, Let all the earth combine With cheerful ardour to confess The energy divine.

6 In Thee our hearts unite, Nor share Thy grief alone, But from Thy cross pursue their flight To Thy triumphant throne.

Philip Doddridge, 1755, a.

294 His Death

1 AN the wings of faith uprising, Jesus crucified I see;

While His love, my soul surprising, Cries, "I suffer'd all for thee!"

2 Then, beneath the cross adoring, Sin doth like itself appear; When the wounds of Christ exploring, I can read my pardon there.

3 Who can think, without admiring? Who can hear, and nothing feel?

See the Lord of life expiring, Yet retain a heart of steel?

4 Angels here may gaze and wonder What the God of love could mean, When He tore the heart asunder, Never once defiled with sin!

Joseph Swain, 1792.

295 "The Love of Christ constraineth us."

1 IN the Lord's atoning grief Be our rest and sweet relief;

Store we deep in heart's recess All the shame and bitterness.

2 Thorns, and cross, and nails, and lance.

Wounds, our treasure that enhance, Vinegar, and gall, and reed, And the pang His soul that freed,

3 May these all our spirits sate, And with love inebriate; In our souls plant virtue's root, And mature its glorious fruit.

4 Crucified! we Thee adore, Thee with all our hearts implore, Us with saintly bands unite In the realms of heavenly light.

5 Christ, by coward hands betray'd, Christ, for us a captive made, Christ, upon the bitter tree Slain for man, be praise to Thee.

John Mason Neale, 1851.

296 For me

1 THE Son of God, in mighty love, Came down to Bethlehem for me, Forsook His throne of light above, An infant upon earth to be.

2 In love, the Father's sinless child Sojourn'd at Nazareth for me; With sinners dwelt the Undefiled, The Holy One in Galilee.

3 Jesus whom angel hosts adore, Became a man of griefs for me: In love, though rich, becoming poor, That I, through Him, enrich'd might be

4 Though Lord of all. above, below, He went to Olivet for me;

He drank my cup of wrath and woe, And bled in dark Gethsemane.

5 The ever-blessed Son of God Went up to Calvary for me:

There paid my debt, there bore my load In His own body on the tree.

6 Jesus, whose dwelling is the skies, Went down into the grave for me;

There overcame my enemies, There won the glorious victory.

7 'Tis finish'd all: the veil is rent, The welcome sure, the access free;

Now then, we leave our banishment, O Father, to return to Thee!

Horatius Bonar 1856.

297

All for us

1 GREAT High Priest, we view Thee stooping, With our names upon Thy breast, In the garden, groaning, drooping, To the ground with horrors press'd.

Weeping angels stood confounded To behold their Maker thus; And can we remain unwounded, When we know 'twas all for us?

2 On the cross Thy body broken Cancels every penal tie;

Tempted souls, produce this token, All demands to satisfy.

All is finish'd; do not doubt it; But believe your dying Lord;

Never reason more about it;

Only take Him at His word.

3 Lord, we fain would trust Thee solely;

'Twas for us Thy blood was spilt, Bruised Bridegroom, take us wholly;

Take and make us what Thou wilt.

Thou hast borne the bitter sentence Past on man's devoted race;

True belief and true repentance Are Thy gifts, Thou God of grace.

Joseph Hart, 1759.

298 Sin removed by the Cross

1 SONS of peace redeem'd by blood, Raise your songs to Zion's God;

Made from condemnation free, Grace triumphant sing with me.

2 Calvary's wonders let us trace, Justice magnified in grace;

Mark the purple streams, and say, Thus my sins were wash'd away.

3 Wrath divine no more we dread, Vengeance smote our Surety's head;

Legal claims are fully met, Jesus paid the dreadful debt.

4 Sin is lost beneath the flood, Drown'd in the Redeemer's blood, Zion, oh! how blest art thou, Justified from all things now.

John Kent, 1803, a.

299 Jehovah satisfied

1 MORE marr'd than any man's, The Saviour's visage see; Was ever sorrow like to His Endured on Calvary?

2 Oh, hear that piercing cry!

What can its meaning be?

"My God! my God! oh! why hast Thou In wrath forsaken me?"

3 Oh 'twas because our sins On Him by God were laid;

He who Himself had never sinn'd, For sinners, sin was made.

4 Thus sin He put away By His one sacrifice, Then, conqueror o'er death and hell, He mounted to the skies.

5 Therefore let all men know That God is satisfied; And sinners all who Jesus trust, Through Him are justified.

William Russell, 1861.

300 "It is finished."

1 HARK! the voice of love and mercy Sounds aloud from Calvary!

See! it rends the rocks asunder, Shakes the earth and veils the sky!

"It is finish'd!"

Hear the dying Saviour cry.

2 "It is finish'd!"—Oh what pleasure Do these charming words afford!

Heavenly blessings without measure Plow to us from Christ the Lord:

"It is finish'd!"

Saints, the dying words record.

3 Finish'd all the types and shadows Of the ceremonial law!

Finish'd all that God had promised;

Death and hell no more shall awe:

"It is finish'd!"

Saints, from hence your comfort draw

4 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs, Join to sing the pleasing theme;

All on earth, and all in heaven, Join to praise Immanuel's name!

Halleluiah!

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!

Jonathan Evans, 1787.

301

Joy or Sorrow

1 "IT is finish'd;" shall we raise Songs of sorrow or of praise?

Mourn to see the Saviour die, Or proclaim His victory?

2 If of Calvary we tell, How can songs of triumph swell?

If of man redeemed from woe, How shall notes of mourning flow?

3 Ours the guilt which pierced His side, Ours the sin for which He died; But the blood which flow'd that day Wash'd our sin and guilt away.

4 Lamb of God! Thy death hath given Pardon, peace, and hope of heaven:

"It is finish'd;" let us raise Songs of thankfulness and praise!

Hymns and Poetry for Schools, 1840.

302 Christ's Death, Victory, and Dominion

1 I SING my Saviour's wondrous death;

He conquer'd when He fell:

"'Tis finish'd!" said His dying breath, And shook the gates of hell.

2 "'Tis finish'd;" our Immanuel cries: The dreadful work is done:

Hence shall His sovereign throne arise His kingdom is began

3 His cross a sure foundation laid For glory and renown, When through the regions of the dead He pass'd to reach the crown.

4 Exalted at His Father's side Sits our victorious Lord; To heaven and hell His hands divide The vengeance or reward.

5 The saints, from His propitious eye, Await their several crowns; And all the sons of darkness fly The terror of His frowns.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

303 The Cup of Wrath

1 ONCE it was mine, the cup of wrath, But Jesus drank it dry; When on the cursed tree transfix'd, He breathed th' expiring sigh.

2 No tongue can tell the wrath He tore, The wrath so due to me;

Sin's just desert; He bore it all, To set the sinner free!

3 Now not a single drop remains;

" 'Tis finish'd," was His cry; By one effectual draught, He drank The cup of wrath quite dry.

Albert Midlane, 1864.