No Common Vision This I See

No com­mon vi­sion this I see

In more than hu­man ma­jes­ty

Who is this migh­ty he­ro

who

With glo­ri­ous ter­ror on His brow?

His deep dyed crim­son robes out­vie

The blush­es of the morn­ing sky;

Lo! how tri­umph­ant He app­ears

And vic­to­ry in His vis­age wears!

How strong

how stat­ely does He go!

Pompous and so­lemn is His pace

And full of ma­jes­ty His face

Who is this migh­ty he­ro

who?

’Tis I

who to My pro­mise stand:

I

who sin

death

hell

and the grave

Have foiled with this all con­quer­ing hand:

’Tis I

the Lord

migh­ty to save.

Why wear’st Thou then this crim­son dye;

Say Thou

all con­quer­ing he­ro

why?

Why do Thy gar­ments look all red

Like them that in the wine vat tread?

“The wine press I alone have trod

That pon­der­ous mass I plied alone:

And with me to as­sist was none:

A task wor­thy the Son of God!

“Angels stood trem­bling at the sight

Enraged I put forth all My might

And down the en­gine pressed; the force

Put fright­ed na­ture out of course.

“The blood gushed out

and check­ered o’er

My gar­ments with its deep­est gore.

With glo­ri­ous stains be­decked I stood

And writ My vic­to­ry in blood.

“The day

the sig­nal day is come

Vengeance on all My foes to take;

The day

when death shall have its doom

And the dark king­dom’s pow­ers shall shake.

“I looked

who to as­sist stood by:

Trembled Heav’n’s hosts

nor ven­tured nigh:

E’en to My Fa­ther did I look

In pain: My Fa­ther Me for­sook.

“A while am­azed I was to see

None to up­hold or com­fort Me:

Then I arose in might ar­rayed

And called My fu­ry to My aid.

My sin­gle arm the bat­tle won

And strait th’ ac­claim­ing Hosts ab­ove

Hymned

in new songs of joy and love

Jehovah and His con­quer­ing Son.