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Hymns From The Land Of Luther by Jane Borthwick




|Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.| -- Isaiah 53:4.

|Fliesst, ihr Augen, Fliesst von Thranen.|

Laurentius Laurenti.

transl., Sarah Findlater, 1855

Flow, my tears, flow still faster,

Thus my guilt and sin bemoan;

Mourn, my heart, in deeper anguish,

Over sorrows not thine own!

See, a spotless Lamb draw nigh

To Jerusalem to die;

For thy sins, the sinless One;

Think! ah! think what thou hast done!

See Him stand while cruel fetters

Bind the hands that framed the world,

While around Him bitter mocking,

Laughter and contempt are hurled.

Heathen rage and Jewish scorn,

Meekly for our sins are borne.

Sin has brought Him from above:

Who can fathom such a love?

Soon tbe heavy doom is spoken,

Even Pilate's pleading ceased,

Jesus to the cross is chosen,

And Barabbas is released!

Ah! there is no loving word,

Not one voice of pity heard!

But the loud and frenzied cry,

|Crucify Him, crucify!|

Can we view the Saviour given

To the smiter's hands for us?

Can we all unmoved, unhumbled,

See Him mocked and slighted thus?

View the thorny chaplet made,

For His meek and silent head,

Hear the loud and angry din,

And not tremble for our sin?

Follow from the hall of judgment

This sad Saviour on His way;

But, in spirit, as ye journey,

Often pause, and humbly pray;

Pray the Father to behold

By the Son thy ransom told,

And a Substitute for thee,

In His Well-beloved see!

Must I, Jesus, thus behold Thee

In Thy toil and sorrow here?

Can I nothing better yield Thee

Than my unavailing tear?

Lamb of God! I weep for Thee!

Weep, Thy cruel cross to see!

Weep, for death that death destroys!

Weep, for grief that brings me joys!

Poor is all that I can offer --

Soul and body while I live;

Take it, O my Saviour, take it --

I have nothing more to give.

Come, and in this heart remain;

Let each enemy be slain;

Let me live and die with Thee;

To Thy kingdom welcome me.

Loud and louder saints are singing,

Glory! glory! Christ, to Thee!

Over death and hell for ever

Thou hast triumphed gloriously.

I am Thine, and Thou art mine:

Oh! to see Thy brightness shine!

Lord! Thy day of grief is o'er,

Come in glory -- come once more!

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