O sin­ner, lift the eye of faith,
To true re­pent­ance turn­ing;
Bethink thee of the curse of sin,
Its aw­ful guilt dis­cern­ing;
Upon the Cru­ci­fied One look,
And thou shalt read, as in a book,
What well is wor­thy thy learn­ing.

Look on His head, that bleed­ing head,
With crown of thorns sur­round­ed;
Look on His sac­red hands and feet
Which pierc­ing nails have wound­ed;
See ev­ery limb with scourg­es rent:
On Him, the Just, the In­no­cent,
What ma­lice hath abound­ed!

’Tis not alone those limbs are racked,
But friends, too, are for­sak­ing;
And, more than all, for thank­less man
That ten­der heart is ach­ing;
Oh, fear­ful was the pain and scorn,
By Je­sus, Son of Ma­ry, borne,
Their peace for sin­ners mak­ing.

None ev­er knew such pain be­fore,
Such in­fi­nite af­flict­ion,
None ev­er felt a grief like His
In that dread cru­ci­fix­ion;
For us He bare those bit­ter throes,
For us those ago­niz­ing woes,
In oft re­newed in­flict­ion.

O sin­ner, mark, and pon­der well
Sin’s aw­ful con­dem­na­tion;
Think what a sa­cri­fice it cost
To pur­chase Thy sal­va­tion;
Had Je­sus ne­ver bled and died,
Then what could thee and all be­tide
But ut­ter­most dam­na­tion?

Lord, give us grace to flee from sin,
And Sa­tan’s wiles en­snar­ing,
And from those ev­er­last­ing flames
For ev­il ones pre­par­ing.
Jesu, we thank Thee, and en­treat
To rest for­ev­er at Thy feet,
Thy hea­ven­ly glo­ry shar­ing.