Behold the Saviour on the cross,
a spectacle of woe!
See from his agonizing wounds
the blood incessant flow;
Till death’s pale ensigns o’er his cheek
and trembling lips were spread;
Till light forsook his closing eyes,
and life his drooping head!
’Tis finished—was his latest voice;
these sacred accents o’er,
He bowed his head, gave up the ghost,
and suffered pain no more.
’Tis finished—The Messiah dies
for sins, but not his own;
The great redemption is complete,
and Satan’s pow’r o’erthrown.
’Tis finished—All his groans are past;
his blood his pain, and toils,
Have fully vanquished our foes,
and crowned him with their spoils.
’Tis finished—Legal worship ends,
and gospel ages run;
All old things now are past away,
and a new world begun.
Scottish Psalms and Paraphrases