He Died For Me
I saw One hanging on a tree, In agony and blood;
He fixed His Languid eyes on me, As near His cross I stood.
Sure, never, till my latest breath, Can I forget that look:
It seemed to change me with His death, Tho’ 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 may’st live.”
Oh, can it be, upon a tree The Saviour died for me?
My soul is thrilled, My heart is filled,
To think He died