Scripture Verse

My meditation of Him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the Lord. Psalm 104:34


William Tans’ur (1700–1783)

Words: Anne Steele, Hymns on Sub­jects Chief­ly De­vo­tion­al 1760. Re­deem­ing love.

Music: St. An­drew (Tan­s’ur) Will­iam Tan­s’ur, 1735 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Steele (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Come, heav’nly love, inspire my song
With thy immortal flame,
And teach my heart, and teach my tongue
The Sav­ior’s lovely name.

The Sav­ior! O what endless charms,
Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence every fear disarms,
And spreads sweet comforts round.

Here pardon, life and joys divine,
In rich effusion flow,
For guilty rebels, lost in sin,
And doomed to endless woe.

In our first parents’ crime we fell;
Our blood, our vital breath
Deep tinged with all the seeds of ill,
Sad heirs to sin and death.

Black o’er our wrath-devoted heads
Avenging justice frowned;
While hell disclosed her deepest shades
And horrors rose around.

Wrapped in the gloom of dark despair,
We helpless, hopeless lay:
But sovereign mercy reached us there,
And smiled despair away.

God’s only Son (stupendous grace!)
Forsook His throne above;
And swift to save our wretched race,
He flew on wings of love.

Th’Almighty former of the skies
Stooped to our vile abode;
While angels viewed with wondering eyes,
And hailed th’incarnate God.

The God in heav’nly strains they sung,
Arrayed in human clay:
Mysterious love! what angel tongue
Thy wonders can display?

Mysterious love, in every scene,
Through all His life appears:
His spotless life exposed to pain,
And miseries and tears.

What blessings on a thankless race
His bounteous hand bestowed!
And from His tongue what wondrous grace,
What rich instruction flowed!

The dumb, the deaf, the lame, the blind
Confessed His healing power;
Disease and death their prey resigned,
And grief complained no more.

Infernal legions trembling fled,
Awed by His pow­er­ful word:
And winds and seas His voice obeyed,
And owned their sovereign Lord.

But man, vile man, His love abused,
Blind to the noblest good;
Blasphemed His power, His word refused,
And sought His sacred blood.

Still His unwearied love pursued
Salvation’s glo­ri­ous plan;
And firm th’approaching horrors viewed,
Deserved by guilty man.

What pain, what soul-oppressing pain,
The great Re­deem­er bore;
While bloody sweat, like drops of rain,
Distilled from every pore!

And ere the dreadful storm descends
Full on His guiltless head,
See Him by His familiar friends
Deserted and betrayed!

While ruffian bands the Lord surround,
Relentless, murderous foes;
Meek, as a lamb for slaughter bound,
The patient Sufferer goes.

Arraigned at Pilate’s impious bar,
(Unparalleled disgrace!)
See spotless innocence appear
In guilt’s detested place!

When perjury fails to stain His name,
The mob’s envenomed breath
Extorts His sentence, Public shame
And painful lingering death.

Patient, the cruel scourge He bore:
The Innocent, the Kind!
Then to the rabble’s lawless power
And rudest taunts consigned.

With thorns they crown that awful brow,
Whose frown can shake the globe;
And on their king in scorn bestow
The reed and purple robe.

Ah! see, the fatal cross appears,
Heart-wounding, dreadful scene!
His sacred flesh rude iron tears,
With agonizing pain.

Exposed with thieves, to public view—
Could nature bear the sight?
The blushing sun his beams withdrew,
And wrapped the globe in night!

Then, Oh! what loads of wrath unknown
The glo­ri­ous Sufferer felt;
For crimes unnumbered to atone,
To expiate mortal guilt!

The Fa­ther’s blissful smile withdrawn,
In that tremendous hour;
Yet still the God sustained the Man
With His al­migh­ty power.

’Tis finished, now aloud He cries,
No more the law requires;
And now (amazing sacrifice!)
The Lord of life expires.

Earth’s firm foundation felt the shock,
With universal dread;
Trembled the mountain, rent the rock,
And waked the sleeping dead!

Now breathless in the silent tomb,
His sacred body lies:
Thither His loved disciples come,
With sorrow-streaming eyes.

But see the promised morn appear!
Their joy revives again;
The Sav­ior lives: adieu to fear,
To every anxious pain.

His kindest words their doubts remove,
Confirm their wavering faith;
He bids them teach the world His love,
Salvation by His death.

Triumphant He ascends on high,
The glo­ri­ous work complete;
Sin, death, and hell, low vanquished lie
Beneath His awful feet.

There with eter­nal glo­ry crowned,
The Lord, the Con­quer­or, reigns;
His praise the heav’nly choirs resound,
In their immortal strains.

Amid the splendors of His throne,
Unchanging love appears;
The names He purchased for His own,
Still on His heart He bears.

Still with prevailing power He pleads
Their cause, for whom He died;
His Spir­it’s sacred influence sheds,
Their comforter and guide.

For them, reserves a radiant crown,
Bought with His dying blood;
And worlds of light, and joys unknown,
Forever near their God.

O the rich depths of love divine!
Of bliss, a boundless store:
Dear Sav­ior, let me call Thee mine;
I cannot wish for more.

I yield, to Thy dear conquering arms
I yield my captive soul:
O let Thy all-subduing charms
My inmost powers control!

On Thee alone my hope relies;
Beneath Thy cross I fall,
My Lord, my life, my sacrifice,
My Sav­ior, and my all.