LOVE TO A CRUCIFIED JESUS.
By Joseph Stennett
By Joseph Stennett, Minister of Pinner’s Hall Seventh-day Baptist Church, A. D. 1690—1713, and author of the hymn, "Another six days' work is done,
Another Sabbath is begun." I own I love; 'tis no uncomely fire
That kindles in my breast intense desire;
I hate myself that yet I love no more;
And yet I more than love—for I adore. 'Tis not just features, sparkling eyes, or air,
That makes the object I admire so fair:
'Tis one exploded for deformity
By others, has ten thousand charms for me. 'Tis not the lily damask'd with the rose,
That does these bonds upon my soul impose:
Whom others in the vilest terms deride,
I lovlier think than all the world beside. Myriads of hearts, should they to love conspire,
Can ne'er enough this lonely one admire.
Who ever has a heart to give, is free;
Our happy loves shall fear no jealousy. The more this perfect beauty shall pursue,
The more is paid to whom all hearts are due.
But would you know to whom I make these vows,
To whose victorious charms my spirit bows? O turn your eyes to calvary, and see
A bleeding Saviour on a cursed tree.
That languid countenance, those dying eyes,
Those trembling lips that utter doleful cries; That fainting head with thorns encircled round,
With streams of blood for wreaths of jewels crown'd;
Those sacred hands that always grace implor'd
Those tender feet with rugged irons bor'd; That sacred body bruised, and covered o'er
With dying sweat, purpled with native gore;
That soul that bore th' unsufferable weight
Of a world's sins both numberless and great. See crimson streams flow from his wounded side,
To wash those very hands by which he died.
Behold my dying Lord, and disapprove
My choice; say, who has charms like him, I love?