IN Jesus’ name, with one accord, Lift up a sacred hymn, And think what healing streams were poured From every bleeding limb.
O, who can tell what woes He bore When that pure blood was spilt, What pangs His tortured body tore When loaded with our guilt?
’Twas not the insulting voice of scorn So deeply wrung His heart; The piercing nail, the tearing thorn, Caused not the saddest smart:
But every struggling sigh betrayed A heavier grief within, When on His burdened soul was laid The weight of human sin.
O Lord, Who came to earth to bear Our sins’ oppressive load, Grant us Thy righteousness to wear, And lead us to our God.
William Hiley Bathurst, 1796-1877