See, world, upon the bloody tree
Thy life there sinks in death;
Covered with stripes and wounds for thee,
Thy Savior yields His breath.
Thou Prince of Glory knew’st no sin;
What caused, Thee, then Thy pain?
Thou harmless, undefiled and clean,
What caused Thee to be slain?
My sins, as numerous as the sands,
Upon the ocean shore,
Have been the cruel murderous hands
That wounded Thee so sore.
Thy anguish, Thy tormenting pain,
And every dreadful woe,
Thou didst so willingly sustain,
My soul should undergo.
Thou on Thy shoulders tak’st the whole,
To ease my burdened heart:
Thou bear’st the curse, to bless my soul,
And heal’st me with Thy smart.
Thy wondrous love to evidence,
Thou wouldst my surety be;
Thyself would’st pay my debt immense,
Thereby to set me free.
Thou art destruction to the grave;
Death’s enemy severe;
That each who was before his slave,
Might now be saved from fear.
My debt to Thee, Thou God of Love!
Weak words cannot express;
I cannot here, if there above,
Show proper thankfulness.
Grant me but this while I am here,
Since I can nothing give,
Thy sufferings in my heart to bear,
And in Thy death to live!