Thirty years by God appointed,

And there dawns the woeful day,

When the great Redeemer girds Him

For the tumult of the fray;

And upon the cross uplifted,

Bears our load of guilt away.

Ah! ’tis bitter gall He drinketh,

When His heart in anguish fails;—

From the thorns His life-blood trickles,

From the spear wound and the nails;

But that crimson stream for cleansing,

O’er creation wide prevails.

Faithful Cross! in all the woodland,

Standeth not a nobler tree;

In thy leaf, and flower, and fruitage,

None can e’er thy equal be;

Sweet the wood, and sweet the iron,

Sweet the load that hung on thee.

Noble tree! unbend thy branches,

Let thy stubborn fibres bend,

Cast thy native rigour from thee,

Be a gentle, loving friend;

Bear Him in thine arms, and softly,

Christ, the King eternal, tend.

Only thou could’st bear the burden

Of the ransom of our race;

Only thou could’st be a refuge,

Like the ark, a hiding-place,

By the sacred blood anointed,

Of the Covenant of Grace.

Blessing, blessing everlasting,

To the glorious Trinity;

To the Father, Son, and Spirit,

Equal glory let there be;

Universal praise be given,

To the Blessed One in Three.