689    8.7.     J. Swain
He “bare our sins … on the tree.” 1 Pet. 2. 24

1 On the wings of faith uprising,
  Jesus crucified I see;
  While his love, my soul surprising,
  Cries, I suffered all for thee.

2 Then beneath the cross adoring,
  Sin does like itself appear;
  When, the wounds of Christ exploring,
  I can read my pardon there.

3 Here I’d feast my soul for ever;
  While this balm of life I prove,
  Every wound appears a river
  Flowing with eternal love.

4 Who can think without admiring?
  Who can hear and nothing feel?
  See the Lord of life expiring,
  Yet retain a heart of steel?

5 [Angels here may gaze and wonder,
  What the God of love could mean,
  When he tore the heart asunder,
  Never once defiled with sin.]