Blest Jesus, When Thy Cross I View

Blest Je­sus

when Thy cross I view

That mys­te­ry to th’an­gel­ic host

I gaze with grief and rap­ture

too

And all my soul’s in won­der lost.

What strange com­pass­ion filled Thy breast

That brought Thee from Thy throne on high

To woes that can­not be ex­pressed

To be des­pised

to groan and die!

For man didst Thou for­sake the sky

To bleed up­on the curs­èd tree?

And didst Thou taste of death

to buy

Immortal life and bliss for me?

Had I a voice to praise Thy name

Loud as the trump that wakes the dead

Had I the rap­tured ser­aph’s flame

My debt of love could ne’er be paid.

Yet Lord

a sin­ner’s heart re­ceive

This bur­dened

con­trite heart of mine;

Thou know­est I’ve naught be­side to give;

And let it be for ev­er Thine.