Ο Christ, what burdens how’d thy head!
Our load was laid on thee;
Thou stoodest in the sinner’s stead—
Barest all my ill for me:
A victim led, thy blood was shed:
Now there’s no load for me.
Death and the curse were in our cup—
Ο Christ, ‘twas full for thee!
But thou hast drain’d the last dark drop—
Tis empty now for me.
That bitter cup—love drank it up;
Now blessings’ draft for me.
Jehovah lifted up His rod—
Ο Christ, it fell on thee!
Thou wast sore stricken of thy God;
There’s not one stroke for me.
Thy tears, thy blood beneath it flow’d;
Thy bruising healeth me.
The tempest’s awful voice was heard—
Ο Christ, it broke on Thee!
Thy open bosom was my ward;
It braved the storm for me.
Thy form was scarr’d—thy visage marr’d;
Now cloudless peace for me.
A flame was kindled in God’s ire—
Ο Christ, it burned on thee!
It was a fierce, consuming fire,
Ev’n in the fair green tree;
There did that fire feed and expire;
Now it is quench’d for me.
Jehovah bade His sword awake—
Ο Christ, it woke ‘gainst thee!
Thy blood the flaming blade must slake;
Thy heart its sheath must be—
All for my sake, my peace to make:
Now sleeps that sword for me.
The Holy One did hide His face—
Ο Christ, ‘twas hid from thee!
Dumb darkness wrapt thy soul a space-
The darkness due to me.
But now that face of radiant grace
Shines forth in light on me.
For me, Lord Jesus, thou hast died,
And I have died in thee;
Thou’rt risen: my bands are all untied;
And now thou livest in me.
When purified, made white, and tried,
Thy glory then for me!
A. R. C.