“Where art thou?” O, sinner, listen!
‘Tis the still small voice of God;
Lovingly He seeks to find thee;
Bring thee to His own abode.
“Where art thou?” O, let Him show thee
Where thou art, and where He is—
How He stooped, that He might raise thee
To that dwelling place of His.
“Where art thou?” O, son of Adam—
Cursed, and ruined by the fall—
If the Christ has not released thee,
Thou art still in Satan’s thrall.
Still in “miry clay” imbedded,
Built on naught but sinking sand;
Still within the grossest darkness,
Still outside “Immanuel’s land.”
“Where is He?” The Man Christ Jesus
Who Himself for sinners gave;
Laying by His Kingly glory;
Came the perishing to save.
Where was He? O, wondrous story,
He was nailed to Calvary’s tree;
Sinner, He was there in judgment!
In the place assigned to thee.
“Where is He?” The Cross is finished.
There behold an empty tomb.
Jesus Christ the Lord has risen,
Conq’ror over death and gloom:
Throned far above all heavens,
Now He ever lives to bless;
As of old, to win poor sinners
By His love and tenderness.
In this Covert from the Tempest
Hide thee, storm-tossed one, today;
To this Hiding-place from judgment
Hasten now, no more delay.
Gladly will the Saviour raise thee
To a place of blessedness;
Seat thee, with Himself, in glory,
There all fulness to possess.”
ML 06/02/1918