Author: Anne Ross Cousin ~ Meter: 8.6.
O Christ, what burdens bowed Thy head! Our load was laid on Thee; Thou stoodest in the sinner's stead — To bear all ill for me. A victim led, Thy blood was shed; Now there's no load for me. Death and the curse were in our cup — O Christ, 'twas full for Thee! But Thou hast drained the last dark drop, 'Tis empty now for me. That bitter cup — love drank it up; Left but the love for me. Jehovah lifted up His rod — O Christ, it fell on Thee! Thou wast forsaken of Thy God; No distance now for me. Thy blood beneath that rod has flowed: Thy bruising healeth me. The tempest awful voice was heard, O Christ, it broke on Thee; Thy open bosom was my ward; It bore the storm for me. Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred; Now cloudless peace for me. For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died, And I have died in Thee; Thou'rt risen: my bands are all untied; And now Thou liv'st in me. The Father's face of radiant grace Shines now in light on me.