Tudalen:Yr athrawes o ddifrif.pdf/138

116

COFIANT

THE LOVE OF GOD.

Oh ! my Lord, I've often musèd
On thy wond'rous love to me,
How I have the same abused,

Slighted, disregarded thee ;
To thy church and thee a stranger,
Pleased with what displeased thee ;
Lost, yet could perceive no danger ;

Wounded , but no wound could see.
But unwearied thou didst seek me,
Still thy calls repeated came,

Till on Calvary's mount I viewed thee
Bearing my reproach and blame ;
Now o'erwhelmed with shame and sorrow ,

While I view thy pierced side ;

Tears bedew the scourge's furrow
Mingling with the purple tide.
J no more at Mary wonder,

Dropping tears upon thy grave;
Earnest, asking all around her,
“ Where is He who died to save ? "
Dying love her heart affected,
Soon she felt its rising power ;
He, who Mary thus afflicted,
Bids his mourners weep no more.
“ AND WHEN HE BEHELD THE CITY , HE WEPT
OVER IT ."

Did Christ o'er sinners weep,
And shall our cheeks be dry ?

Let floods of penitential grief
Burst forth from every eye.
The Son of God in tears,

Angels with wonder see :

Be thou astonished, O ! my soul,
He shed those tears for thee .

He wept - 'twas we should weep
Each sin demands a tear ;

In heaven alone no sin is found,
And there's no weeping there.

Ah ! that atoning blood,
It was the life of God,

And angels speechless gazed to see it shed ;