Weeps the Sav­ior o’er His foe,
The vil­est of man­kind:
Need we ar­gu­ments to show
His mer­cy un­con­fined?
Arguments His heart to prove,
Copious from His eyes they fall;
Every tear de­mon­strates love,
And love that died for all!

Still the streams of pi­ty run,
And ne­ver, ne­ver cease,
Still He mourns a soul un­done
By its own wick­ed­ness:
One who would from Him de­part
He doth with His mer­cy see:
Grieves for me His melt­ing heart,
His Spir­it grieves for me!

Jesus, length­en out my day,
That I Thy grace may know,
Grace which takes the stone away,
And makes the wa­ters flow:
Touch me with Thy sac­red grief,
Draw me to Thy wound­ed side;
Then Thy blood is my re­lief,
And speaks me jus­ti­fied.