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 every 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 man, surprizing grace!
Yet pass rebellious angels by –
O why for man, dear Saviour, why?
And didst thou bleed, for sinners bleed?
And could the sun behold the deed?
No, he withdrew his sickening ray,
And darkness 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.
Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship, no. 99 (all stanzas); Poems, 1780, vol. 1, pp. 179-80; MS, Steele Collection, Angus Library, Regents Park College, STE 3/1/1 no. 101; STE 3/1/2 no. 4; also Nonconformist Women Writers, vol. 1, p. 154.