Oh, the sharp pangs of smarting pain
My dear Redeemer bore;
When knotty whips, and ragged thorns
His sacred body tore!
‘Twere you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.
‘Twere you that pull’d the vengeance down
Upon his guiltless head;
Break, break, my heart, oh, burst mine eyes,
And let my sorrows bleed.
Strike, mighty grace, my stubborn soul,
Till melting waters flow,
And deep repentance drown mine eyes,
In undissembled woe.
Isaac Watts (1674-1748)
