Whilst I Celestial Themes Pursue


Whilst I celestial Themes pursue,
How God, my Saviour, lov’d to Death;
These Notes to me are ever new,
And will be to my latest Breath.

Almighty Babe! in Bethl’hem born,
The Object of my solemn Praise,
Treated by Infidels with Scorn,
But Life, and Soul of all my Joys.

Hail! everlasting Father, God,
Debas’d, and in a Servant’s Form;
Thou conquer’dst by thy Wounds and Blood,
In Likeness of a sinful Worm.

Dear Man of Sorrows, Thee we hail!
Forsaken, Friendless, disesteem’d,
Thy Griefs, and Blood, and Tears prevail,
And have our Soul from Hell redeem’d.

All hail! Thou agonizing God,
Whose pregnant Veins wee rack’d with Pain,
In fervent Love, they burst with Blood,
Descending as the early Rain.

Hail! holy Lamb, to Slaughter led,
Silent and guilty in our Stead,
To Death by Man’s Offence betray’d,
Just as the Father’s Love decreed.

With Shame and Ignominy us’d,
Dragg’d by a Priest-rid Mob to Court,
With cruel Mockings there abus’d,
Messiah, was the Clergy’s Sport.

Condemn’d, and to the Heathen sent,
They follow with their louder Cry;
Like Blood-hounds still upon the Scent,
Insatiate ’till the Saviour die.

o The Ploughers plough his sacred Flesh,
Make long and bloody Furrows there,
With Instruments of Pain they thresh,
And merciless his Body tear.

His Praises shall be my Employ!
To pay my Debts, he drain’d his Store;
That we, poor Worms, might sing for Joy,
Heav’n dying, bled at ev’ry Pore.

This is the highest Proof of Lofe!
The nature, bosom Love of God!
I rise to dwell in this Above,
Led by the Track of Jesu’s Blood.