HYMN 4. (C. M.) Christ's dying Love; or, our Pardon bought at a dear Price.
I
How condescending and how kind
Was God's eternal Son!
Our misery reach'd his heavenly mind,
And pity brought him down.
II
When justice by our sins provok'd
Drew forth its dreadful sword,
He gave his soul up to the stroke
Without a murmuring word.
III
He sunk beneath our heavy woes
To raise us to his throne;
There's ne'er a gift his hand bestows
But cost his heart a groan.
IV
This was compassion like a God,
That when the Saviour knew
The price of pardon was his blood,
His pity ne'er withdrew.
V
Now, tho' he reigns exalted high,
His love is still as great:
Well he remembers Calvary,
Nor lets his saints forget.
VI
Here we behold his bowels roll
As kind as when he dy'd;
And see the sorrows of his soul
Bleed thro' his wounded side.
VII
Here we receive repeated seals
Of Jesus' dying love:
Hard is the wretch that never feels
One soft affection move.
VIII
Here let our hearts begin to melt,
While we his death record,
And with our joy for pardon'd guilt
Mourn that we pierc'd the Lord.
