“‘Tis finished all—our souls to win,
His life the blessed Saviour gave:
Then rising, left His people’s sin
Behind Him in His open grave.
Past suff’ring now, the tender heart
Of Jesus, on His Father’s throne,
Still in our sorrow bears a part,
And feels it as He felt His own.
Sweet thought, we have a Friend above,
Our weary, falt’ring steps to guide,
Who follows with the eye of love
The little flock for which He died.”