In evil long I took delight, Unawed by shame or fear, Till a new object struck my sight, And stopped my wild career. I saw One hanging on a tree, In agonies and blood, Who fixed His languid eyes on me, As near His cross I stood. Sure, never till my latest breath Can I forget that look; It seemed to charge me with His death, Though not a word he spoke. My conscience felt and owned the guilt, And plunged me in despair; I saw my sins His blood had spilt, And helped to nail Him there. Alas! I knew not what I did: But now my tears are vain; Where shall my trembling soul be bid? For I the Lord have slain. A second look He gave, which said, "I freely all forgive; This blood is for thy ransom paid, I die that thou mayst live." Thus while His death my sin displays In all its blackest hue; Such is the mystery of grace, It seals my pardon too. With pleasing grief and mournful joy My spirit now is filled, That I should such a life destroy, Yet live by Him I killed. |