Oh solemn hour! Oh hour alone
In solitary might,
When God the Father's only Son,
As man, for sinners to atone,
Expires—amazing sight!
The Lord of glory crucified!
The Lord of life has bled and died!
Oh mystery of mysteries!
Of life and death the tree;
Center of two eternities,
Which look with rapt, adoring eyes,
Onward and back to Thee—
Oh cross of Christ, where all His pain
And death is our eternal gain.
Oh how our inmost hearts do move,
While gazing on that cross;
The death of the Incarnate Love!
What shame, what grief, what joy we prove,
That He should die for us!
Our hearts were broken by that cry,
"Eli, lama sabachthani?"
Worthy of death, O Lord, we were;
That vengeance was our due;
In grace Thy spotless Lamb did bear
Himself our sins, and guilt, and shame;
Justice our Surety slew,
With Him, our Surety, we have died,
With Him we there were crucified.
Quickened with Him with life divine,
Raised with Him from the dead;
His own, and all His own are Thine,
Shall with Him in His glories shine,
His church's living Head!
We, who were worthy but to die,
Now with Him, "Abba, Father," cry.