Stretched on the Cross, the Savior Dies

Stretched on the cross

the Sav­ior dies

Hark! His ex­pir­ing groans arise!

See

from His hands

His feet

His side

Runs down sac­red crim­son tide!

But life attends the death­ful sound

And flows from ev­ery bleed­ing wound;

The vi­tal stream

how free it flows

To save and cleanse His re­bel foes!

To suf­fer in the trai­tor’s place

To die for man

sur­pris­ing grace!

Yet pass re­bel­lious an­gels by—

O why for man

dear Sav­ior

why?

And didst Thou bleed? for sin­ners bleed?

And could the sun be­hold the deed?

No

he with­drew his sick­en­ing ray

And dark­ness veiled the mourn­ing day.

Can I sur­vey this scene of woe

Where ming­ling grief and won­der flow

And yet my heart un­moved re­main

Insensible to love or pain!

Come

dear­est Lord

Thy pow­er im­part

To warm this cold

this stu­pid heart

Till all its pow­ers and pass­ions move

In melt­ing grief and ar­dent love.