252
C. M.
I looked—and there was none to help.
Isaiah 63:5.
Plunged in a gulf of dark despair,
We wretchéd sinners lay,
Without one cheerful beam of hope,
Or spark of glimmering day.
2 With pitying eyes the Prince of grace
Beheld our helpless grief;
He saw, and—O! amazing love!
He ran to our relief.
3 Down from the shining seats above,
With joyful haste he fled,
Entered the grave in mortal flesh,
And dwelt among the dead.
4 O! for this love let rocks and hills
Their lasting silence break;
And all harmonious human tongues
The Saviour’s praises speak.
5 Angels! assist our mighty joys;
Strike all your harps of gold;
But, when you raise your highest notes,
His love can ne’er be told.
Watts.