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;