By Thy Cross and Passion
‘He hath given us rest by His sorrow, and life by His death.’ —John Bunyan.I.
WHAT hast Thou done for me, O mighty Friend,
Who lovest to the end!
Reveal Thyself, that I may now behold! Thy love unknown, untold,
Bearing the curse, and made a curse for me,
That blessed and made a blessing I might be. II. Oh, Thou wast crowned with thorns, that I might
A crown of glory fair; ‘Exceeding sorrowful,’ that I might be
Exceeding glad in Thee; ‘Rejected and despised,’ that I might stand Accepted and complete on Thy right hand.
Wounded for my transgression, stricken sore, That I might ‘sin no more;’
Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee; Bound, that I might be free;
Acquaint with grief, that I might only know
Fulness of joy in everlasting flow.
Thine was the chastisement, with no release,
That mine might be the peace; The bruising and the cruel stripes were Thine,
That healing might be mine; Thine was the sentence and the condemnation,
Mine the acquittal and the full salvation.
For Thee revilings, and a mocking throng,
For me the angel-song; For Thee the frown, the hiding of God’s face,
For me His smile of grace; Sorrows of hell and bitterest death for Thee, And heaven and everlasting life for me.
Thy cross and passion, and Thy precious death,
While I have mortal breath,
Shall be my spring of love and work and praise, The life of all my days;
Till all this mystery of love supreme
Be solved in glory—glory’s endless theme!