O LOVE upon a cross impaled

O LOVE upon a cross impaled,
My contrite heart is drawn to thee;
Are thine the hands my pride has nailed,
And thine the sorrows borne for me?
Are such the wounds my sin decrees?
I fall in shame upon my knees.

2 ‘Twere not for sinners such as I
To gaze upon thy sore distress,
Or comprehend thy bitter cry
Of God-forsaken loneliness.
I shelter from such agonies
Beneath thy cross, upon my knees.

3 Forgive! Forgive! I hear thee plead;
And me forgive! I instant cry.
For me thy wounds shall intercede,
For me thy prayer shall make reply;
I take the grace that flows from these,
In saving faith, upon my knees.

4 Now take thy throne, O Crucified,
And be my love-anointed King!
The weapons of my sinful pride
Are broken by thy suffering.
A captive to love’s victories,
I yield, I yield upon my knees.