Mrs. Cousin

8.6.8.6.8.6.

O CHRIST, what burdens bowed Thy head!

Our load was laid on Thee;

Thou stoodest in the sinner’s stead,

Didst bear all ill for me.

A Victim led, Thy blood was shed;

Now there’s no load for me.

2

Death and the curse were in our cup,

O Christ, ’twas full for Thee!

But Thou hast drained the last dark drop—

’Tis empty now for me.

That bitter cup—love drank it up;

Now blessings’ draught for me.

3

Jehovah lifted up His rod,

O Christ, it fell on Thee!

Thou wast sore stricken of Thy God;

There’s not one stroke for me.

Thy tears, Thy blood, beneath it flowed;

Thy bruising healeth me.

4

The tempest’s awful voice was heard,

O Christ, it broke on Thee!

Thy open bosom was my ward,

It braved the storm for me.

Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred;

Now cloudless peace for me.

5

Jehovah bade His sword awake,

O Christ, it woke ’gainst Thee!

Thy blood the flaming blade must slake;

Thy heart its sheath must be—

All for my sake, my peace to make;

Now sleeps that sword for me.

6

For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,

And I have died in Thee;

Thou’rt ris’n: my bands are all untied,

And now Thou liv’st in me.

When purified, made white, and tried,

Thy Glory then for me!