Look, O Chris­tian! see thy Sav­ior
Stooping ’neath His weigh­ty cross;
Look! and let thy pride and glo­ry
Be to thee as dung and dross.
Mark His torn and bleed­ing tem­ples,
And His wea­ry, way-worn feet;
Let thy heart now bow be­fore Him,
And thine eyes all tear­ful weep.

See His back all scarred and bleed­ing,
Patiently thy griefs He bears;
See the pur­ple robe around Him,
And the crown of thorns He wears:
All alone in His sad tra­vail,
Help and friends all far away;
But a lit­tle of His sor­row
Filled their hearts with sore dis­may.

See the rab­ble, how they mock Him!
Still no fear His faith ap­palls;
Onwards ’neath His cross He stag­gers,
Till be­neath its weight He falls;
Faint, for­sak­en, bruised and smit­ten,
Sad and lone­ly on He goes,
Goes to where His heart’s blood flow­ing
Shall for ev­er cleanse His foes.

’Mid the taunts of men and de­vils,
See Him slow­ly on­wards move;
Drops of blood all si­lent flow­ing,
Speak His ev­er­las­ting love.
Many wa­ters round Him rag­ing,
Deep loud bel­lows un­to deep;
Still His love, un­quenched and burn­ing,
To the end His heart shall keep.

O dis­ci­ples, cease your dream­ing,
While thus gaz­ing on your Lord;
Can this world now claim your friend­ship,
Sheathed in Je­su’s heart its sword?
Can your path be ev­er plea­sant,
Ever free your heart from pain,
If in Je­su’s foot­steps tread­ing
You would reach eter­nal gain?

If a cross your Sav­ior car­ried,
Needful it for Him to bear,
Can you won­der love hath pur­posed
In His sor­rows you should share?
Still, with­in the cross Christ gives you,
Kindly stoop­ing from above,
You will find the hid­den ho­ney
Of His ne­ver-fail­ing love.

’Neath its sha­dow and its sor­rows
Joy shall plume her frag­rant wing;
And thy heart, though pierced and bleed­ing,
Songs of lof­ty hope shall sing.
Be thou strong, then—look to Je­sus!
In thy lot a cross thoul’t find;
Take it up and cheer­ful bear it,
Cast no lin­ger­ing look be­hind.