NATURE with open volume stands,

But in the grace that rescued man His brightest form of glory shines; Here, on the cross, ’tis fairest drawn In precious blood and suffering lines.

Here I behold His inmost heart, Where grace and justice strangely join, Piercing His Son with sharpest smart, To make the purchased blessings mine.

He Who distributes crowns and thrones— The Prince of Life—resigns His breath, Hangs on a tree and bleeds and groans; The King of Glory bows to death!

O, the sweet wonders of that cross, Where God the Saviour loved and died! Its noblest life my spirit draws From His dear wounds and bleeding side.

I will for ever speak His name, In songs to mortal ears unknown: With angels join to praise the Lamb, And worship at His Father’s throne.