"BY THY CROSS AND PASSION."
"He hath given us rest by His sorrow, and life by His death."—John Bunyan.
What hast Thou done for me, O mighty Friend,
Who lovest to the end!
Reveal Thyself, that I may now behold
Thy love unknown, untold,
Bearing the curse, and made a curse for me,
That blessed and made a blessing I might be.
Oh, Thou wast crowned with thorns, that I might wear
A crown of glory fair;
"Exceeding sorrowful," that I might be
Exceeding glad in Thee;
"Rejected and despised," that I might stand
Accepted and complete on Thy right hand.
Wounded for my transgressions, stricken sore,
That I might "sin no more:"
Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee;
Bound, that I might be free;
Acquaint with grief, that I might only know
Fulness of joy in everlasting flow.
Thine was the chastisement, with no release,
That mine might be the peace;
The bruising and the cruel stripes were thine,
That healing might be mine;
Thine was the sentence and the condemnation,
Mine the acquittal and the full salvation.
For Thee revilings, and a mocking throng,
For me the angel-song;
For Thee the frown, the hiding of God's face,
For me His smile of grace;
Sorrows of hell and bitterest death for Thee,
And heaven and everlasting life for me.
Thy cross and passion, and Thy precious death,
While I have mortal breath,
Shall be my spring of love and work and praise,
The life of all my days;
Till all this mystery of love supreme
Be solved in glory—glory's endless theme!
—Frances Ridley Havergal.