Sunday, October 26, 2014

Come, all ye chosen saints of God

Christ's Passion.

1. Come, all ye chosen saints of God,
That long to feel the cleansing blood,
In pensive pleasure join with me,
To sing of sad Gethsemane.

2. Gethsemane the olive press!
(And why so called, let Christians guess)
Fit name! fit place! where vengeance strove,
And gripped and grappled hard with love.

3. 'Twas here the Lord of life appeared,
And sighed, and groaned, and prayed and feared;
Bore all incarnate God could bear,
With strength enough, and none to spare.

4. The powers of hell united pressed,
And squeezed his heart, and bruised his breast;
What dreadful conflicts raged within,
When sweat and blood forced through the skin!

5. Dispatched from heaven an angel stood,
Amazed to find him bathed in blood;
Adored by angels, and obeyed;
But lower now than angels made.

6 He stood to strengthen, not to fight;
Justice exacts its utmost mite.
This victim vengeance will pursue;
He undertook, and must go through.

7. Three favored servants, left not far,
Were bid to wait and watch the war;
But Christ withdrawn, what watch we keep!
To shun the sight, they sunk in sleep.

8. Backwards and forwards thrice he ran,
As if he sought some help from man;
Or wished, at least, they would condole
('Twas all they could) his tortured soul.

9. Whate'er he sought for, there was none;
Our Captain fought the field alone;
Soon as the chief to battle led,
That moment every soldier fled.

10. Mysterious conflict! Dark disguise!
Hid from all creature's piercing eyes;
Angels, astonished, viewed the scene,
And wonder yet what all could mean.

11. O Mount of Olives! sacred grove!
O garden, scene of tragic love!
What bitter herbs thy beds produce!
How rank their scent! How harsh their juice!

12. Rare virtues now those herbs contain;
The Savior sucked out all their bane;
My mouth with these if conscience cram,
I'll eat them with the paschal Lamb.

13. O Kedron, gloomy brook, how foul
Thy black polluted waters roll!
No tongue can tell (but some can taste)
The filth that into thee was cast.

14. In Eden's garden there was food
Of every kind for man, while good;
But banished thence, we fly to thee,
O Garden of Gethsemane.


1. And why, dear Saviour, tell me why,
Thou thus would'st suffer, bleed and die?
What mighty motives could thee move?
The motive's plain, 'twas all for love.

2. For love of whom? Of sinners base,
A hardened herd, a rebel race;
That mocked and trampled on thy blood,
And wantoned with the wounds of God.

3. When rocks and mountains rent with dread,
And gaping graves gave up their dead;
When the fair sun withdrew his light,
And hid his head to shun the sight.

4. Then stood the wretch of human race,
And raised his head and showed his face,
Gazed unconcerned when nature failed;
And scoffed, and sneered, and cursed and railed.

5. Harder than rocks and mountains are,
More dull than dirt and earth by far,
Man viewed unmoved thy blood's rich stream,
Nor ever dreamed it flowed for him.

6. Such was that race of sinful men,
That gained that great salvation then;
Such, and such only, still we see;
Such they were all, and such are we.

7. The Jews with thorns his temples crowned,
And lashed him when his hands were bound;
But thorns, and knotted whips, and bands,
By us were furnished to their hands.

8. They nailed him to the accursed tree;
(They did, my brethren, so did we);
The soldier pierced his side, 'tis true,
But we have pierced him through and through.

9. Oh love of unexampled kind!
That leaves all thought so far behind,
Where length, and breadth, and depth, and height;
Are lost to my astonished sight.

10. For love of me the Son of God
Drained every drop of vital blood;
Long time I after idols ran,
But now my God's a martyred Man.

The Christian's Duty, exhibited in a series of hymns, 1791
Joseph Hart (Posted as found in A Selection of Hymns for Public Worship by William Gadsby, Hymn # 153)

No comments: