One Hanging on a Tree
In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stoppd my wild career:
I saw One hanging on a Tree
In agonies and blood,
Who fixd His languid eyes on me.
As near His Cross I stood.
Sure never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look:
It seemd to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke:
My conscience felt and ownd the guilt,
And plunged me in despair:
I saw my sins His Blood had spilt,
And helpd to nail Him there.
Alas! I knew not what I did!
But now my tears are vain:
Where shall my trembling soul be hid'
For I the Lord have slain!
A second look He gave, which said,
“I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayst live.”
Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.
With pleasing grief, and mournful joy,
My spirit now if filld,
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by Him I killd!