His Trial O’er

His trial o’er

and now be­neath

His own cross faint­ly bend­ing

Jesus the fa­tal hill of death

Is wea­ri­ly as­cend­ing.

And now

His hands and feet pierc­ed through

Upon the cross they raise Him:

Where even now

in dist­ant view

The eye of faith sur­veys Him.

O wond­rous love

which God most high

Toward man was pleased to cher­ish!

His sin­less Son He gave to die

That sin­ners might not per­ish.

Yes

’tis the cross that breaks the rod

And chain of con­dem­na­tion

And makes a league ’twixt man and God

For our en­tire sal­va­tion.

O praise the Fa­ther

praise the Son

The Lamb for sin­ners giv­en

And Ho­ly Ghost

by whom alone

Our hearts are raised to Heav­en.