Yonder—amazing sight!—I see
Th’incarnate Son of God,
Expiring on the accursèd tree,
And weltering in His blood.

Behold a purple torrent run
Down from His hands and head:
The crimson tide puts out the sun;
His groans awake the dead.

The trembling earth, the darkened sky,
Proclaim the truth aloud;
And with th’amazed centurion cry,
This is the Son of God.

So great, so vast a sacrifice,
May well my hope revive:
If God’s own Son thus bleeds and dies,
The sinner sure may live.

O that these cords of love divine,
Might draw me, Lord to Thee,
Thou hast my heart, it shall be Thine—
Thine it shall ever be!