And there dawns the woeful day,

When the great Redeemer girds Him

For the tumult of the fray;

And upon the cross uplifted,

Bears our load of guilt away.

II

Ah! ’tis bitter gall He drinketh,

When His heart in anguish fails;—

From the thorns His life-blood trickles,

From the spear wound and the nails;