Looking at the Cross

I

In evil long I took delight,
  Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
  And stopp’d my wild career.

II

I saw one hanging on a tree,
  In agonies and blood,
Who fix’d his languid eyes on me
  As near his cross I stood.

III

Sure never till my latest breath
  Can I forget that look;
It seem’d to charge me with his death
  Though not a word He spoke.

IV

My conscience felt, and own’d the guilt
  And plunged me in despair;
I saw my sins his blood had spilt,
  And help’d to nail Him there.

V

Alas! I knew not what I did:
  But now my tears are vain;
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
  For I the Lord have slain.

VI

A second look He gave, which said,
  “I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid,
  I die, that thou may’st live.”

VII

Thus while his death my sin displays
  In all its blackest hue,
(Such is the mystery of grace,)
  It seals my pardon too.

VIII

With pleasing grief and mournful joy
  My spirit now is fill’d,
That I should such a life destroy
  Yet live by Him I kill’d.