1 In the darkness, blindly groping,
Cursed by sin, you’ve wander’d long;
Christ rejecting, vainly hoping
Peace to find in paths of wrong;
Hast’ning downward to destruction,
Seeking that which is but dross,—
Pause, I pray you, weary wand’rer,
Lift your eyes to Calvary’s cross.
2 Oh, draw near in awe and wonder,
Contemplate Him hanging there;
On His great atonement ponder:—
Can it be you do not care?
Lifted high, ‘twixt earth and heaven,—
Blessed Lamb for sinners slain;—
He is dying,—spurned, rejected,—
Crowned with thorns and racked with pain.
3 Listen to His cry of anguish,
“Why, O God, dost thou forsake?”
Why must He in sorrow languish?
Why the cup of judgment take?
In His Word you find the answer,
‘Twas for you His life He gave,
He Himself could not deliver,
If your soul from wrath He’d save.
4 “It is finished,” hear Him crying,
Nothing more remains to do,
He has settled by His dying,
Ev’ry claim God had ‘gainst you.
Oh, believe the wondrous story;
Trust alone His saving grace,
Then when He returns in glory,
You shall see Him face to face.