The Lord's Death Till He Come

 •  1 min. read  •  grade level: 2
 
On that “same night,” Lord Jesus,
When all the scene combined
To cast its darkest shadow
Across Thy holy mind,
We hear Thy voice; blest Saviour,
“This do, remember me;”
With joyful hearts responding
We do remember Thee.
The depth of all Thy suffering
No heart could e’er conceive;
The cup of wrath o’erflowing,
For us Thou did’st receive,
And oh! of God forsaken
On the accursed tree—
With grateful hearts, Lord Jesus,
We now remember Thee.
We think of all the darkness
Which round Thy spirit press’d
Of all those was and billows
Which roll’ d across Thy breast;
Oh there Thy grace unbounded,
And perfect love we see
With joy and sorrow mingling
We would remember Thee.
We know Thee now as risen
“The first-born from the dead;”
We see Thee now ascended
The Church’s glorious head.
In Thee by grace accepted,
The heart and mind set free
To think of all Thy sorrow,
And thus remember Thee.
Till Thou shalt come in glory,
And call us hence away,
To bask in all the brightness
Of that unclouded day;
We show Thy death, Lord Jesus,
And here would seek to be
More to Thy death conformed.
Whilst we remember Thee.
G. W. F.