He “bare our sins … on the tree.” 1 Pet. 2. 24
J. Swain 8.7.
On the wings of faith uprising,
Jesus crucified I see;
While his love, my soul surprising,
Cries, I suffered all for thee.
Then beneath the cross adoring,
Sin does like itself appear;
When, the wounds of Christ exploring,
I can read my pardon there.
Here I’d feast my soul for ever;
While this balm of life I prove,
Every wound appears a river
Flowing with eternal love.
Who can think without admiring?
Who can hear and nothing feel?
See the Lord of life expiring,
Yet retain a heart of steel?
[Angels here may gaze and wonder,
What the God of love could mean,
When he tore the heart asunder,
Never once defiled with sin.]