In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear, Till a new object struck my sight, And stopped my wild career. I saw one hanging on a tree, In agonies and blood, Who fixed His languid eyes on me, As near his cross I stood. Sure, never to my latest breath, Can I forget that look; It seemed to charge me with his death, Though not a word he spoke. My conscience felt and owned the guilt, And plunged me in despair, I saw my sins his blood had spilt, And helped to nail him there. Alas! I knew not what I did: But now my tears are vain; Where shall my trembling soul be hid? For I the Lord have slain. A second look he gave, which said, ‘I freely all forgive; This blood is for thy ransom paid; I die that thou mayst live’. Thus while his death my sin displays In all its blackest hue; Such is the mystery of grace, It seals my pardon too. With pleasing grief and mournful joy, My spirit now is filled, That I should such a life destroy, Yet live by him I killed. John Newton, 1725-1807
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
Fr Lee KenyonArchives
May 2021
Categories
All
|