HYMN 22
L. M.
The compassion of a dying Christ.
539 Our spirits join t' adore the Lamb; O that our feeble lips could move In strains immortal as his name, And melting as his dying love! | Was ever equal pity found? The Prince of heav'n resigns his breath, And pours his life out on the ground, To ransom guilty worms from death. | [Rebels, we broke our Maker's laws He from the threat'nings set us free, Bore the full vengeance on his cross, And nailed the curses to the tree.] | [The law proclaims no terror now, And Sinai's thunder roars no more; From all his wounds new blessings flow, A sea of joy without a shore. | Here we have washed our deepest stains, And healed our wounds with heav'nly blood; Blest fountain! springing from the veins Of Jesus, our incarnate God.] | In vain our mortal voices strive To speak compassion so divine; Had we a thousand lives to give, A thousand lives should all be thine. | |