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| 1 With fiery serpents greatly pain'd, When Israel's mourning tribes complain'd, And sigh'd to be relieved; A serpent strait the prophet made, Of molten brass, to view display'd: The patient look'd and liv'd. 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 fix'd our feasted eyes, Weeping with tears of glad surprise; And thankfully admire. 5 Hail, great Emmanuel, balmy name1 Thy praise the ransom'd 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: to which are added a number never before published #CLXIII (1799) The Hartford Selection of Hymns: from the most approved authors: to which are added a number never before published (2nd ed.) #CLXIII (1802) |
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