Vain man has mea­sured land and sea

Fathomed the depths of states and kings

O’er earth and heav’n ex­plored his way:

Yet there are two vast spa­cious things

To mea­sure which doth more be­hove

Yet few that sound them—sin and love.

Who would know sin

let him re­pair

To Cal­va­ry: there shall he see

A man so pained

that all his hair

His skin

His gar­ments bloody be!

Sin is that rack

which forc­es pain

To hunt its food through ev­ery vein.

Wouldst thou know love? be­hold the God

The Man

who for thy ran­som died:

Go taste the sac­red fount that flowed

Fast-stream­ing from His wound­ed side!

Love is that li­quor most di­vine

God feels as blood

but I as wine.

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