Hymn 129. Redeeming Love
Come heavenly love, inspire my song
With thy immortal flame,
And teach my heart, and teach my tongue
The Saviour’s lovely name.
The Saviour! O what endless charms
Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence very fear disarms,
And spreads sweet comfort round.
Here pardon, life, and joys divine
In rich effusion flow,
For guilty rebels lost in sin,
And doom’d to endless woe.
In our first parent’s crime we fell;
Our blood, our vital breath
Deep ting’d with all the seeds of ill,
Sad heirs to sin and death.
Black o’er our wrath-devoted heads
Avenging Justice frown’d;
While Hell disclos’d her deepest shades,
And horrors rose around.
Wrap’d in the gloom of dark despair,
We helpless, hopeless lay:
But sovereign Mercy reach’d us there,
And smil’d despair away.
God’s only Son (stupendous grace!)
Forsook his throne above;
And swift to save our wretched race,
He flew on wings of love.
Th’Almighty Former of the skies
Stoop’d to our vile abode;
While angels view’d with wondering eyes,
And hail’d th’incarnate God.
The God in heavenly strains they sung,
Array’d in human clay;
Mysterious love! what angel tongue
Thy wonders can display?
Mysterious love, in every scene,
Through all his life apears:
His spotless life expos’d to pain,
And miseries and tears.
What blessings on a thankless race,
His bounteous hand bestow’d?
And from his tongue what wonderous grace,
What rich instruction flow’d?
The dumb, the deaf, the lame, the blind
Confess’d his healing power;
Disease and Death their prey resign’d,
And Grief complain’d no more.
Infernal legions trembling fled,
Aw’d by his powerful word:
And winds and seas his voice obey’d,
And own’d their sovereign Lord.
But man, vile man, his love abus’d,
Blind to the noblest good;
Blasphem’d his power, his Word refus’d,
And sought his sacred blood.
Still his unwearied love pursu’d
Salvation’s glorious plan;
And firm th’approaching horrors view’d,
Deserv’d by guilty man.
What pain, what soul-oppressing pain,
The great Redeemer bore;
While bloody sweat, like drops of rain,
Distill’d from every pore!
And ere the dreadful storm descends
Full on his guiltless head,
See him by his familiar friends
Deserted and betray’d!
While ruffian bands the Lord surround,
Relentless, murderous foes;
Meek, as a lamb for slaughter bound,
The patient sufferer goes.
Arraign’d at Pilate’s impious bar,
(Unparallel’d disgrace!)
See spotless innocence appear
In guilt’s detested place!
When perjury fails to stain his name,
The mob’s envenom’d breath
Extorts his sentence, “Publick shame
‘And painful lingering death.”
Patient, the cruel scourge he bore:
The innocent, the kind!
Then to the rabble’s lawless power
And rudest taunts consign’d.
With thorns they crown that awful brow,
Whose frown can shake the globe;
And on their kind in scorn bestow
The reed and purple robe.
Ah! see the fatal cross appears,
Heart-wounding, dreadful scene!
His sacred flesh rude iron tears,
With agonizing pain.
Expos’d with thieves, to publick view –
Could nature bear the sight?
The blushing sun his beams withdrew,
And wrapt the globe in night!
Then, Oh! what loads of wrath unknown
The glorious sufferer felt;
For crimes unnumber’d to atone,
To expiate mortal guilt?
The Father’s blissful smile withdrawn,
In that tremendous hour;
Yet still the God sustain’d the man
With his almighty power.
“’Tis finish’d,” now aloud he cries,
“No more the law requires;”
And now, (amazing sacrifice!)
The Lord of life expires.
Earth’s firm foundation felt the shock,
With universal dread;
Trembled the mountain, rent the rock
And wak’d the sleeping dead!
Now breathless in the silent tomb,
His sacred body lies;
Thither his lov’d disciples come,
With sorrow-streaming eyes.
But see, the promis’d morn appear!
Their joy revives again;
The Saviour lives; adieu to fear,
To every anxious pain.
His kindest words their doubts remove,
Confirm their wavering faith;
He bids them teach the world his love,
Salvation by his death.
Triumphant he ascends on high,
The glorious work compleat;
Sin, Death, and Hell, low vanquish’d lie
Beneath his awful feet.
There with eternal glory crown’d,
The Lord, the conqueror reigns;
His praise the heavenly choirs resound,
In their immortal strains.
Amid the splendours of his throne,
Unchanging love appears;
The names he purchas’d for his own,
Still on his heart he bears.
Still with prevailing power he pleads
Their cause for whom he died;
His Spirit’s sacred influence sheds,
Their comforter and guide.
For them, reserves a radiant crown,
Bought with his dying blood;
And worlds of light, and joys unknown,
For ever near their God.
O the rich depths of love divine!
Of bliss, a boundless store:
Dear Saviour, let me call thee mine:
I cannot wish for more.
I yield to thy dear conquering arms
I yield my captive soul:
O let thy all-subduing charms
My inmost powers controul!
On thee alone my hope relies;
Beneath thy Cross I fall,
My Lord, my life, my sacrifice,
My Saviour, and my all.
Text: Timothy Whelan, gen. ed., Nonconformist Women Writers, 8 vols. (London: Pickering & Chatto, 2011), vol. 1, pp. 35-41; Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship, no. 121 (stanzas 1-3, 7-8, 37, 39); Poems, 1780, vol. 1, pp. 7-14; MS, Steele Collection, STE 3/1/1 no. 4, Angus Library, Regents Park College, Oxford.