First, I would bid you stand and see the place where the Lord lay with emotions of deep sorrow. O come, my beloved brother, thy Jesus once lay there. He was a murdered man, my soul, and thou the murderer.
“Ah, you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were,
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.”
“Alas! and did my Saviour bleed?
And did my Sov’reign die?”
I slew him—this right hand struck the dagger to his heart. My deeds slew Christ. Alas! I slew my best beloved: I killed him who loved me with an everlasting love. Ye eyes, why do ye refuse to weep when ye see Jesus’ body mangled and torn? Oh! give vent to your sorrow, Christians, for ye have good reason to do so…
My soul was drowning. From heaven’s high portals he saw me sinking in the depths…
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