Yonder—amazing sight!—I see Th’incarnate Son of God, Expiring on the accursèd tree, And weltering in His blood. Behold a purple torrent run Down from His hands and head: The crimson tide puts out the sun; His groans awake the dead. The trembling earth, the darkened sky, Proclaim the truth aloud; And with th’amazed centurion cry, This is the Son of God. So great, so vast a sacrifice, May well my hope revive: If God’s own Son thus bleeds and dies, The sinner sure may live. O that these cords of love divine, Might draw me, Lord to Thee, Thou hast my heart, it shall be Thine— Thine it shall ever be!