O All-Atoning Lamb

O all-aton­ing Lamb

O Sav­ior of man­kind

If ev­ery soul may in Thy name

With me sal­va­tion find;

If Thou hast chos­en me

To tes­ti­fy Thy grace

(That vast un­fa­thom­able sea

Which cov­ers all our race):

Equip me for the war

And teach my hands to fight

My sim­ple up­right heart pre­pare

And guide my words aright!

Control my ev­ery thought

My whole of self re­move;

Let all my works in Thee be wrought

Let all be wrought in love.

O arm me with the mind

Meek Lamb

that was in Thee

And let my know­ing zeal be joined

To fer­vent char­ity:

With calm and tem­pered zeal

Let me en­force Thy call

And vin­di­cate Thy gra­cious will

Which of­fers life to all.

O! do not let me trust

In any arm but Thine

Humble

O hum­ble to the dust

This stub­born soul of mine;

Cast all my reeds aside

Captivate ev­ery thought

And drain me of my strength and pride

And bring me down to naught.

Thou dost not stand in need

Of me to prop Thy cause

T’assert Thy ge­ner­al grace

or spread

The vic­to­ry of Thy cross;

A fee­ble thing of naught

With hum­ble shame I own;

The help which up­on Earth is wrought

Thou dost it all alone.

Little

and base

and mean

And vile in mine own eyes

A lump of mi­se­ry and sin

At Thy com­mand I rise;

I rise at Thy com­mand

I an­swer to Thy call

A wit­ness of Thy grace I stand

Thy grace which is for all.

O may I love like Thee

And in Thy foot­steps tread!

Thou hat­est all ini­qui­ty

But no­thing Thou hast made;

O may I learn Thy art

With meek­ness to re­prove

To hate the sin with all my heart

But still the sin­ner love.

Increase (if that can be)

The per­fect hate I feel

To Sa­tan’s Hor­ri­ble De­cree

That ge­nu­ine child of Hell;

Which feigns Thee to pass by

The most of Ad­am’s race

And leave them in their blood to die

Shut out from sav­ing grace.

To most

as dev­ils teach

(Get thee be­hind me

Fiend!)

To most Thy mer­cies nev­er reach

Whose mer­cies nev­er end:

Millions of souls Thy will

Delighted to or­dain

Inevitable death to feel

And ev­er­last­ing pain.

In vain Thy writ­ten Word

The hell­ish tale gain­says

Bids all re­ceive their com­mon Lord

And of­fers all Thy grace:

Prophets

apos­tles join

And saints and an­gels call;

And Christ at­tests the love di­vine

That sent Him down for all.

Yet still

alas! there are

Who give their God the lie

The Sav­ior of the world they dare

With all His truths de­ny;

A mon­strous two-fold will

To God the Just they give

“His secret one or­dained to kill

Whom His de­clared bids live.

The God of truth com­mands

All sin­ners to re­pent

And mocks the work of His own hands

By what He nev­er meant:

Commands them to be­lieve

An un­avail­ing lie

Him for their Sav­ior to re­ceive

For them who did not die.

Loving to ev­ery man

Of ten­der­est pi­ty full

Did God the Good

the Just

or­dain

To damn one help­less soul?

He did! the Just

the Good

(Hell an­swers from be­neath)

Spite of His Word

His oath

He would;

He wills the sin­ner’s death.

Like as a Fa­ther feels

His suf­fer­ing child­ren’s care

In God such kind com­pas­sion dwells

For all His offs­pring are:

He loves His lit­tle ones

(As Sa­tan speaks) “so well

To dash their brains against the stones

And shut them up in Hell.

He gives them damn­ing grace

To raise their tor­ments high­er

And makes His shriek­ing child­ren pass

To Mo­loch through the fire;

He doomed their souls to death

From all eter­ni­ty

This is that wisd­om from be­neath

That Hor­ri­ble De­cree!

My soul it har­rows up

It freez­es all my blood

My ting­ling ears I fain would stop

Against their hell­ish god.

Constrained

al­as! to hear

His re­pro­bat­ing roar

And see him hor­ri­bly ap­pear

All stained with hu­man gore.

’Tis thus

Thou lov­ing Lamb

Thy crea­tures pic­ture Thee;

I blush to own my na­ture’s shame

That na­ture is in me;

But let it not re­main

The dire re­proach ef­face;

Arise

O God

Thy truth main­tain

Thy all-re­deem­ing grace.

Defend Thy mer­cy’s cause:

Men have blas­phemed their God

Thrown down the al­tar of Thy cross

And tram­pled on Thy blood;

Thy truth and right­eous­ness

Their im­pi­ous schemes dis­prove

And rob Thee of Thy fa­vo­rite grace;

Thine uni­vers­al love.

Ah! fool­ish souls

and blind!

If your re­port be true

If mer­cy is not un­con­fined

What mer­cy were for you!

Who all His truth blas­pheme

Who all His grace de­ny;

Fury

ye worms

is not in Him

Or He would you pass by.

Jesus

for­give the wrong

But O! Thy foes re­strain

Silence the lewd

op­pro­bri­ous tongue

That scourg­es Thee again:

They put Thee

Lord

to shame

Again to death pur­sue;

Yet O for­give them

gen­tle Lamb

They know not what they do.

Some men of sim­ple heart

The De­vil’s tale be­lieve

Beguiled by the old Ser­pent’s art

His say­ing they re­ceive:

For fear of rob­bing Thee

They rob Thee of Thy grace

And (O good God) to prove it free

Damn al­most all the race.

Pity their sim­ple­ness

O Sav­ior of man­kind

Scatter the clouds of smoke that press

Their weak

be­wil­dered mind;

The oth­er Gos­pel chase

To Hell from whence it came;

And let them taste Thy gen­er­al grace

And let them know Thy name.

O all-re­deem­ing Lord

Our com­mon friend and head

Thine ev­er­last­ing Gos­pel word

In their be­half we plead!

If they have drank their bane

Do Thou the death re­move

The ve­no­mous thing drive out again

By uni­vers­al love.

Let it not plunge their soul

In all th’ex­tremes of ill

The fa­tal mis­chief

Lord

con­trol

Nor suf­fer it to kill;

Thou wouldst that none should die

O bring them back to God;

Thy sov­er­eign an­ti­dote ap­ply

Thine all-aton­ing blood.

Avenge us of our foe

And crush the Ser­pent’s head

Nor long­er suf­fer him to sow

On earth the dead­ly seed;

The Tram­pler on Thy grace

Bruise him be­neath our feet;

To Hell the old De­ceiv­er chase

And seal the burn­ing pit.

Then shall Thy saints re­joice

The Song of Moses sing

With an­gel choirs lift up their voice

And praise their heav’n­ly king.

Th’Accuser is sub­dued

And put to end­less shame

Cast down by the all-cleans­ing blood

Of the vic­tor­ious Lamb.