1 Now from the garden to the cross,
Let us attend the Lamb of God.
Be all things else accounted dross,
Compared with sin atoning nlood.
2 See, how the patient Jesus stands,
Insulted in his lowest case:
Sinners have bound the Almighty's hands;
And spit in their Creator's face.
3 With thorns his temples gored and gashed,
Send streams of blood from every part.
His back's with knotted scourges lashed:
But sharper scourges tear his heart.
4 Nailed naked to the accursed wood;
Exposed to earth, and heaven above,
A spectacle of wounds and blood;
A prodigy of injured love!
5 Hear how his doleful cries affright
Affected angels, while they view.
His friends forsook him in the night;
And now his God forsakes him too.
6 O what a field of battle's here!
Vengeance and love their powers oppose:
Never was such a mighty pair;
Never were two such desperate foes.
7 Behold that pale, that languid face,
That drooping head, those cold dead eyes!
Behold, in sorrow and disgrace,
Our conquering Hero hangs and dies!
8 Ye that assume his sacred name,
Now tell me, what can all this mean?
What was it bruised God's harmless Lamb!
What was it pierced his soul, but sin?
9 Blush, Christian, blush; let shame abound,
If sin affects thee not with woe,
Whatever spirit's in thee found,
Christ's Spirit thou didst never know.
The Christian's duty, exhibited in a series of hymns, 1791
