A chimney sweep ! how black the skin!
But blacker far it is within.
This secret then the sweep doth know—
Though black as hell, he’s white as snow!
Water will wash or cleanse the skin ;
But oh ! ‘tis blood must cleanse within—.
That blood that ran on Calvary’s tree ;
Though but a sweep, ‘twas shed for me!
What matters it, dear Lord, to me,
Though I a chimney sweep should be,
If through Thy blood I’m freed from all
The sin that issued from the Fall ?
A chimney sweep of low degree,
Yes loved by all The Sacred Three ;
Electing love ! what tongue can tell ?
Though loved of God, deserving hell !
I envy not the rich man’s gold,
If I on Christ but lay my hold ;
There’s something more I seek to win—
‘Tis Christ in me, and I in Him.
‘Tis all of GRACE, the sweep must say,
That he was led to Christ the “Way” ;
If ever one has cause to bless,
Sure ‘tis the sweep, through sovereign grace!
In bygone days, with venom foul,
I’ve called damnation on my soul ;
Then who has greater cause to say,
‘Tis CHRIST the “Truth,” the “Life,” the “Way” ?
Let none despise the sooty sweep,
But rather with him let them weep
That Christ should own me as a “son”
And for my life lay down His own!
Though black without, ‘tis worse within,
‘Tis nothing but a mass of sin;
Yet after all I’m white and fair,
More comely than the roses are.
Comely I am through God’s dear Son,
He has on me His robe put on,
Which makes the sweep, when let to see,
Oftimes to say ‘Why me? why me?’
(Extract)