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How condescending, and how kind
Hymnal: Church Pastorals, hymns and tunes for public and social worship #703 (1864) Topics: The Church Languages: English
How condescending, and how kind
How condescending and how kind
Author: Watts Hymnal: The Psalmist #840 (1843)
How condescending and how kind
How condescending and how kind
Author: Watts Hymnal: The Psalmist #840 (1849)
How condescending and how kind
How condescending and how kind
Author: Watts Hymnal: Plymouth Collection of Hymns and Tunes; for the use of Christian Congregations #921 (1855)
How condescending and how kind
How condescending and how kind
Author: Watts Hymnal: The Baptist Hymn and Tune Book #921 (1858)
How condescending and how kind
How condescending, and how kind
Author: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748 Hymnal: The Baptist Psalmody #929 (1850)
How condescending, and how kind
How condescending, and how kind
Author: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748 Hymnal: Songs of the Church #967 (1879)
How condescending, and how kind
How condescending, and how kind
Author: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748 Hymnal: The Baptist Hymn Book #1160 (1859)
How condescending, and how kind
Hymn 4
Author: Isaac Watts Hymnal: Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts, The #III.4 (1806) Meter: 8.6.8.6 First Line: How condescending and how kind Lyrics:
How condescending and how kind
Was God's eternal Son!
Our misery reached his heav'nly 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 murm'ring word.]
[He sunk 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 when 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 we behold his bowels roll,
As kind as when he died;
And see the sorrows of his soul
Bleed through his wounded side.]
[Here we receive repeated seals
Of Jesus' dying love:
Hard is the wretch that never feels
One soft affection move.]
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.
Languages: English
Hymn 4
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