1 LORD, e'en to death Thy love could go,
A death of shame and loss,
To vanquish for us every foe,
And break the strong man's force.

2 Oh! what a load was Thine to bear
Alone in that dark hour,
Our sins in all their terror there,
God's wrath and Satan's power!

3 The storm that bowed Thy blessed head
Is hushed for ever now,
And rest divine is ours instead,
Whilst glory crowns Thy brow.

4 Within the Father's house on high,
We soon shall sing Thy praise;
But here, where Thou didst bleed and die,
We learn that song to raise.

(H L Rossier, translated Miss C A Wellesley)