Behold the Saviour on the cross,

a spectacle of woe!

See from his agonizing wounds

the blood incessant flow;

Till death’s pale ensigns o’er his cheek

and trembling lips were spread;

Till light forsook his closing eyes,

and life his drooping head!

’Tis finished—was his latest voice;

these sacred accents o’er,

He bowed his head, gave up the ghost,

and suffered pain no more.

’Tis finished—The Messiah dies

for sins, but not his own;

The great redemption is complete,

and Satan’s pow’r o’erthrown.

’Tis finished—All his groans are past;

his blood his pain, and toils,

Have fully vanquished our foes,

and crowned him with their spoils.

’Tis finished—Legal worship ends,

and gospel ages run;

All old things now are past away,

and a new world begun.