Behold, my soul, thy Sav­ior king!
His suf­fer­ings thy re­demp­tion bring:
Attend, my soul, His lone­ly cry—
The voice of blood that rends the sky!

Those dy­ing groans shall rend my heart;
Those nails to me shall pain im­part:
My flesh, my will I cru­ci­fy:
With Thee, my Lord, I mourn—I die.

In vain all oth­er friends are mine,
If Thou on me re­fuse to shine:
Thy love alone can fill my soul,
And make my wound­ed spir­it whole.

Canst Thou, O Lord, ac­cept my pray­er,
And still this guil­ty wan­der­er spare?
Then in Thy name I come to Thee,
And to Thy cross for ev­er flee.

Beneath Thy cross in pray­er and praise
I’ll spend the rem­nant of my days:
Beneath Thy cross my clos­ing eyes
Shall rest, till Hea­ven my sleep sur­prise.