Vain man has measured land and sea,
Fathomed the depths of states and kings,
O’er earth and heav’n explored his way:
Yet there are two vast spacious things,
To measure which doth more behove,
Yet few that sound them—sin and love.
Who would know sin, let him repair
To Calvary: there shall he see
A man so pained, that all his hair,
His skin, His garments bloody be!
Sin is that rack, which forces pain
To hunt its food through every vein.
Wouldst thou know love? behold the God,
The Man, who for thy ransom died:
Go taste the sacred fount that flowed
Fast-streaming from His wounded side!
Love is that liquor most divine,
God feels as blood, but I as wine.