One Hanging on a Tree
John Newton, 1725-1807
In evil long I took delight, I saw One hanging on a Tree Sure never till my latest breath, My conscience felt and own'd the guilt, Alas! I knew not what I did! A second look He gave, which said, Thus, while His death my sin displays With pleasing grief, and mournful joy,Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopp'd my wild career:
In agonies and blood,
Who fix'd His languid eyes on me.
As near His Cross I stood.
Can I forget that look:
It seem'd to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke:
And plunged me in despair:
I saw my sins His Blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail Him there.
But now my tears are vain:
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain!
"I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou may'st live."
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.
My spirit now if fill'd,
That I should such a life destroy,
