Dear Dying Lamb

Dear dy­ing Lamb

for whom alone

We suf­fer pain

and shame

and loss

Hear Thine af­flict­ed people groan

Crushed by the bur­den of Thy cross

And bear our faint­ing spir­its up

And bless the bit­ter

sac­red cup.

Drunkards

and slaves of lewd ex­cess

Bad

law­less men

Thou knowst

we lived:

The world

and we were then at peace

No de­vil his own serv­ants grieved;

Evil we did

but suf­fered none:

The world will al­ways love its own.

But now we would Thy Word ob­ey

And strive to es­cape the wrath di­vine

Exposed to all

a help­less prey

Bruised by our ene­mies

and Thine

As sheep midst ra­ven­ing wolves we lie

And dai­ly grieve

and dai­ly die.

Smitten

we turn the oth­er cheek

Our ease

and name

and goods fore­go

Help

or re­dress no long­er seek

In any child of man be­low;

The pow­ers Thou didst for us or­dain

For us they bear the sword in vain.

But wilt Thou not at last ap­pear

Into Thine hand the mat­ter take?

We look for no pro­tect­ion here

But Thee our on­ly re­fuge make

To Thee

O right­eous Judge

ap­peal

And wait Thy just and per­fect will.

Thou wilt not shut Thy bow­els up

Or jus­tice to the op­pressed de­ny;

Thy mer­cy’s ears Thou can­not stop

Against the mourn­ful pri­son­ers’ cry

Who ev­er make our hum­ble moan

And look for help to Thee alone.

Then help us meek­ly to sus­tain

The cross of man’s op­press­ive pow­er

To slight the shame

en­dure the pain

And calm­ly wait the wel­come hour

That brings the fie­ry cha­ri­ot down

And whirls us to our heav’n­ly crown.