HOW willing was Jesus to die, That we rebel sinners might live! The life they could not take away, How ready was Jesus to give!
They pierced through His hands and His feet, His body He freely resigned; The pains of His flesh were so great! But greater the pangs of His mind!
Such wrath as would kindle a hell Of never-abating despair For millions of sinners—then fell On Jesus, and spent itself there.
’Twas justice that fell in that hour On Jesus our Saviour’s dear head; Divinity’s indwelling power Sustained Him till nature was dead.
No nearer we venture to gaze On sorrow so deep, so profound; But tread with amazement, and praise And reverence such hallowed ground.
Joseph Swain, 1761-96‡