1 From whence these direful omens round,
Which heav'n and earth amaze?
Wherefore do earthquakes cleave the ground?
Why hides the sun his rays?
2 Well may the earth astonish'd shake,
And nature sympathize!
The sun as darkest night be black!
Their Maker, Jesus, dies!
3 Behold, fast streaming from the tree,
His all-atoning blood!
Is this the Infinite? ’tis he,
My Saviour and my God!
4 For me these pangs his soul assail,
For me the death is borne;
My sins gave sharpness to the nail,
And pointed ev'ry thorn.
5 Let sin no more my soul enslave,
Break, Lord, the tyrant chain,
Oh save me, whom Thou cam’st to save,
Nor bleed, nor die in vain!
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | From whence these direful omens round |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1792 |
Topic: | Good Friday |