V.—REDEMPTION.
I
The mighty frame of glorious grace,
That brightest monument of praise
That e'er the God of love design'd,
Employs and fills my labouring mind.
II
Begin, my muse, the heav'nly song,
A burden for an angel's tongue:
When Gabriel sounds these awful things,
He tunes and summons all his strings.
III
Proclaim inimitable love:
Jesus, the Lord of worlds above,
Puts off the beams of bright array,
And veils the God in mortal clay.
IV
What black reproach defil'd his name,
When with our sin he took our shame!
The pow'r whom kneeling angels blest
Is made the impious rabble's jest.
V
He that distributes crowns and thrones
Hangs on a tree and bleeds and groans:
The Prince of life resigns his breath,
The King of glory bows to death.
VI
But see the wonders of his pow'r,
He triumphs in his dying hour,
And whilst by Satan's rage he fell
He dash'd the rising hopes of hell.
VII
Thus were the hosts of death subdu'd,
And sin was drown'd in Jesus' blood:
Then he arose, and reigns above,
And conquers sinners by his love.
[VIII]
Who shall fulfil this boundless song?
What vain pretender dares?
The theme surmounts an angel's tongue,
And Gabriel's harp despairs.
