While Passing A Garden I Paused Lingered


While passing a garden, I lingered to hear
A voice faint and falt’ring, from one that was there;
While pleading in anguish, the poor sinner’s part,
The voice of the mourner affected my heart.
That was my Lord, that was my Lord,
That was my Lord who has suffered for me.

So deep were His sorrows, so fervent His pray’rs,
That down o’er His bosom rolled sweat, blood and tears;
I wept to behold Him, I asked Him His name;
He answered, “Tis Jesus, from heaven I came.”
That was my Lord, that was my Lord,
That was my Lord who has suffered for me.

“I am thy Redeemer, for thee I must die,
This cup is most bitter, but cannot pass by;
Thy sins, like a mountain, are laid upon me,
And all this deep anguish I suffer for thee.”
That was my Lord, that was my Lord,
That was my Lord who has suffered for me.

I trembled with terror, and loudly did cry:
“Lord, save a poor sinner! Oh! save, or I die!”
He cast His eyes on me, and said to me, “Live!
Thy sins, which are many, I freely forgive.”
That was my Lord, that was my Lord,
That was my Lord who has suffered for me.