I thought of Him who died for sin,
That He eternal life might win
For those who did in heart abhor Him.
Who, though the Father's sole delight,
Willingly left the glory bright
With death and suffering before Him.
Of Him who render'd up His breath,
Bowing beneath the stroke of death,
Triumphing over death by dying,
And who, though dead, yet strong to save,
Arose victorious o'er the grave,
Its dread and loathsome power defying.
I thought of Him in courts above,
The object of the Father's love,
By radiant angel hosts attended,
Dwelling in glory's brightest blaze,
The theme of heaven's exhaustless praise,
His sufferings forever ended.
But though on high, He's still the same
As when upon the cross of shame
He prayed in love for them that slew Him.
Though dwelling in the courts above
He still retains His name of Love
And welcomes all that still come to Him.
How great the love He bears His own!
Its height or depth can ne'er be known,
In His warm heart 'tis ever glowing,
And soon He'll come to claim His bride
That she may e'er with Him abide,
Glory divine on her bestowing.
Hearken! He speaks from heaven afar,
Midnight is past, 'tis early morning,
Rise from among the dead-awake-
Be watchful, slumber from thee shake,
For soon I come the heavens adorning.