October 24
How condescending and how kind
Was God’s eternal Son!
Our misery reached His heavenly mind,
And pity brought Him down.
When justice by our sins provoked,
Drew forth its dreadful sword,
He gave His soul up to the stroke,
Without a murmuring word.
He sank beneath our heavy woes,
To raise us to His throne:
There’s ne’er a gift His hand bestows
But cost His heart a groan.
This was compassion like a God,
That though the Savior knew
The price of pardon was His blood,
His pity ne’er withdrew.
Now, though He reigns exalted high,
His love is still as great:
Well He remembers Calvary,
Nor let His saints forget.
Here let our hearts begin to melt,
While we His death record,
And, with our joy for pardoned guilt,
Mourn that we pierced the Lord.
Isaac Watts
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