HYMN 22. (L. M.) The Compassion of a dying Christ.
I
Our spirits join t'adore the Lamb;
O that our feeble lips could move
In strains immortal as his name,
And melting as his dying love.
II
Was ever equal pity found?
The prince of heaven resigns his breath,
And pours his life out on the ground
To ransom guilty worms from death.
III
Rebels, we broke our Maker's law;
He from the threatening set us free,
Bore the full vengeance on his cross,
And nail'd the curses to the tree.
IV
The law proclaims no terror now,
And Sinai's thunder roars no more;
From all his wounds new blessings flow,
A sea of joy without a shore.
V
Here we have wash'd our deepest stains,
And heal'd our wounds with heavenly blood:
Blest fountain! springing from the veins
Of Jesus our incarnate God.
VI
In vain our mortal voices strive
To speak compassion so divine;
Had we a thousand lives to give,
A thousand lives should all be thine.
