Christian Worship A Dying Saviour.
Stretched on the cross, the Saviour dies,
Hark! his expiring groans arise;
See, from his hands, his feet, his side,
Descends the sacred, crimson tide.
And didst thou bleed?-for sinners bleed?
And could the sun behold the deed?
No; he withdrew his cheering ray,
And darkness veiled the mourning day.
Can I survey this scene of woe,
Where mingling grief and mercy flow,
And yet my heart so hard remain,-
Unmoved by either love or pain!
Come, dearest Lord, thy grace impart,
To warm this cold, this stupid heart,
Till all its powers and passions move,
In melting grief and ardent love.