by Issac Watts

Infinite grief! amazing woe!
Behold my bleeding Lord:
Hell and the Jews conspired his death,
And used the Roman sword.

Oh the sharp pangs of smarting pain
My dear Redeemer bore,
When knotty whips, and ragged thorns
His sacred body tore!

But knotty whips and ragged thorns
In vain do I accuse,
In vain I blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews.

'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 pulled the vengeance down
Upon his guiltless head:
Break, break my heart, oh burst mine eyes,
And let my sorrows bleed.

Strike, mighty Grace, my flinty soul
Till melting waters flow,
And deep repentance drown mine eyes
In undissembled woe.

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