"BY THY CROSS AND PASSION."
Reading edition
"He hath given us rest by His sorrow, and life by His death."—John Bunyan.
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. Oh, Thou wast crowned with thorns, that I might wear 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 transgressions, 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! —Frances Ridley Havergal.