I dreamt I saw the Saviour’s Cross
Upon a little hill;
With pleading tones I heard Him cry:
“Come unto Me, why will ye die?
Come, whosoever will.”
Methought I saw a man in tears,
All stained with sin and filled with fears―
He heard, he looked, then sang: ―
“I do believe, I will believe
That Jesus died for me,
That on the Cross He shed His blood,
From sin to set me free.”
Next came a maiden, young and fair,
Whom none could charge with sin;
I marveled much to see her there:
She wore an earnest, anxious air:
No peace had she within.
She listened to the Saviour’s voice,
It made her drooping heart rejoice―
She heard, she looked, and sang: ―
“Nothing in my hand I bring;
Simply to Thy Cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grave.;
Foul, I to the fountain fly―
Wash me, Saviour, or I die.”
I saw the tottering form of one,
And near him was his grave,
And yet his eyes ne’er turned that way;
Onward he pressed without delay,
His heart was light and brave,
His pilgrimage about to end,
He gazed upon the sinner’s Friend―
In quavering accents sang: ―
“In peace let me resign my breath,
And Thy salvation see;
My sins deserved eternal death;
But Jesus died for me.”
T. Robinson
Heather Lea, Kirkby-in-Furness.
(Leaflets.)