Awake the Sacred Song

A Dying Savior

Stretch'd on the cross the Saviour dies;
Hark! his expiring groans arise!
See, from his hands, his feet, his side,
Runs down the sacred crimson tide!

But life attends the deathful sound,
And flows from ev'ry 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 us, surprizing grace!
Yet pass rebellious angels by --
"O why for them,^* dear Saviour, why?"

And didst thou bleed, for sinners bleed?
And could the sun behold the deed?
No, he withdrew his sick'ning ray,
And dark-ness veil'd the mourning day.

Can I survey this scene of woe,
Where mingling grief and wonder flow;
And yet my heart unmov'd 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.

^* Originally "man".