“I saw One hanging on a tree, In agonies and blood,
Who 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 charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.
My conscience felt and acknowledged 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.”