His trial o’er, and now beneath
His own cross faintly bending,
Jesus the fatal hill of death
Is wearily ascending.
And now, His hands and feet pierced through,
Upon the cross they raise Him:
Where even now, in distant view,
The eye of faith surveys Him.
O wondrous love, which God most high
Toward man was pleased to cherish!
His sinless Son He gave to die,
That sinners might not perish.
Yes, ’tis the cross that breaks the rod
And chain of condemnation,
And makes a league ’twixt man and God
For our entire salvation.
O praise the Father, praise the Son,
The Lamb for sinners given,
And Holy Ghost, by whom alone
Our hearts are raised to Heaven.