Wesley Corpus

The abjects spit upon that face Which prophets wish'd in vain to see, On which the angels lov'd to gaze, Pleas'd with his milder majesty. Ador'd by angels, mock'd by men, Speechless the form of guilt he wears, Revil'd he answers not again, But meekly all their insults bears. Nor can he thus their hate asswage, His innocence to death pursu'd, Must fully glut their utmost rage; Hark! How they clamour for his blood! To us our own Barabbas give, Away with him (they loudly cry) Away with him, not fit to live, The vile seducer crucify. Page 23 Against his God the creature calls: Accus'd and sentenc'd by the breath Himself inspir'd, their Maker falls; The Lord of life is doom'd to death. His sacred limbs they stretch, they tear, With nails they fasten to the wood His sacred limbs expos'd, and bare, Or only cover'd with his blood. See there! His temples crown'd with thorns! His bleeding hands extended wide, His streaming feet, transfixt and torn! The fountain gushing from his side! Where is the King of Glory now! The everlasting Son of God! Th' immortal hangs his languid brow, Th' Almighty faints beneath his load! Beneath my load he faints, and dies: I fill'd his soul with pangs unknown; I caus'd those mortal groans, and cries, I kill'd the Father's only Son. Oh! Thou dear suffering Son of God, How doth thy heart to sinners move! Help me to catch thy precious blood, Help me to taste thy dying love. Give me to feel thy agonies, One drop of thy sad cup afford: I fain with thee would sympathize,13 And share the sufferings of my Lord. The earth could to her centre quake, Convuls'd, while her Creator died; O let my inmost nature shake, And bow14 with Jesus crucified. 13Ori., "simpathise"; corrected in errata. 14"Bow" changed to "die" in 2nd edn. (1745) and following. Page 24 At thy last gasp the graves display'd Their horrors to the upper skies; Oh! That my soul might burst the shade, And quickned by thy death, arise. The rocks could feel thy powerful death, And tremble, and asunder part: O rent with thy expiring breath The harder marble of my heart. My stony heart thy voice shall rent, Thou wilt, I trust, the veil remove, My inmost bowels shall resent The yearnings of thy dying love.