Hymnal: The Sacred Melodeon
Date: 1848
Compiler: A S Hayden
Publisher/Printer: A S Hayden
First Line: While nature was sinking in silence to rest
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>
Composer:
Meter: 11s
Tune: Christ in the Garden
Hymn Number: <no hymn number given>
Page Number: 240, click to see hymnal pages
LyicsWhile nature was sinking in silence to rest,
And th' last beams of daylight were dim in the west,
I stray'd in the twilight, unconscious, away,
In deep meditation, where'er my path lay.
I pass'd near a garden: there fell on my ear
A voice of deep anguish from one that was there;
The tones of his agony melted my heart,
While earnestly pleading the lost sinner's part.
In offering to heaven his strong, matchless prayer,
He spake of the torments the sinner must bear;
His life, as a ransom, he offer'd to give,
That sinners, redeemed, in glory might live.
So deep was his sorrow, so fervent his prayers,
That down o'er his bosom roll'd sweat, blood, and tears!
I wept to behold him, and asked his name,
He answer'd, "'Tis Jesus: from heav'n I came.
"I am thy Redeemer, -- for thee I must die:
The cup is most painful but cannot pass by;
Thy sins, like a mountain, are laid upon me,
And all this deep anguish I suffer for thee!"
I heard, with attention, the tale of his wo,
While tears, like a fountain of waters did flow;
The cause of his sorrow to hear him repeat,
Affected my heart, and I fell at his feet.
I trembled with horror, and loudly did cry -
"Lord, save, or I perish! O save, or I die!"
He smiled when he saw me, and said to me - "Live!"
Thy sins, which are many, I freely forgive."
How sweet was that language! It made me rejoice!
His smiles, O how pleasant! How cheering his voice!
I ran from the garden to spread it abroad:
I shouted, "Salvation! O, glory to God!"
I'm now on my journey to mansions above:
My soul full of glory, of peace, light, and, love!
I think of the garden, the prayer, and the tears,
And that loving stranger, who banish'd my fears.
The day of bright glory is rolling around,
When Gabriel, descending, the trumpet shall sound;
My soul then in raptures of glory will rise,
To gaze on that Stranger with unclouded eyes.