Recall, My Heart, That Dreadful Hour

Recall

my heart

that dread­ful hour

When Je­sus on the curs­èd tree

Infinite pains and sor­rows bore—

Think

O my soul

was this for thee?

See

crown­ed with thorns that sac­red head

With beams of glo­ry once ad­orned!

That voice

which Heav’n and earth ob­eyed

Is now by trai­tors mocked and scorned.

And see those love­ly melt­ing eyes

Whence kind com­pas­sion oft­en flowed

Now raised im­plor­ing to the skies

For hard­ened souls athirst for blood!

Those heal­ing hands with bless­ings fraught

Nailed to the cross with pun­gent smart!

Inhuman deed! Could no kind thought

To pi­ty move the ruth­less heart?

But oh! What ago­nies un­known

His soul sus­tained be­neath the load

Of mor­tal crimes! How deep the groan

Which calmed the ven­geance of a God!

He groaned! He died! The aw­ful scene

Of won­der

grief

sur­pris­ing love

For ev­er let my heart re­tain

Nor from my Sav­ior’s feet re­move.

O Je­sus

take this wretch­ed heart

Which trem­bling

mourn­ing

comes to Thee;

The bless­ing of Thy death im­part

And tell my soul

’tis all for me.