1 With fiery serpents greatly pained,
When Israel's mourning tribes complained,
And sighed to be relieved;
A serpent straight the prophet made,
Of molten brass, to view displayed:
The patient looked and lived.
2 But O what healing to the heart,
Doth Jesu's greater cross impart
To those that seek a cure?
Israel of old, and we no less
The same indulgent grace confess,
While life and breath endure.
3 To reason's view this strange effect,
Self righteous souls will still reject,
And perish in their pride,
But those who're stung with sin and law
Do all their rich salvation draw
From Jesu's bleeding side.
4 May we then view the matchless cross,
All other objects count but loss;
No other gain desire:
Here still be fixed our feasted eyes,
Weeping with tears of glad surprise;
And thankfully admire.
5 Hail, great Emmanuel, balmy name1
Thy praise the ransomed will proclaim;
Thee we Physician call:
We own no other cure but thine,
Thou, the deliverer divine,
Our health, our life, our all.
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799