Saturday, March 26

Wondrous Sight for Men and Angels!

Wondrous sight for men and angels!
Wonders, wonders without end!
He who made, preserves, sustains us,
He our Ruler and our Friend,
Here lies cradled in the manger,
Finds no resting-place on earth,
Yet the shining hosts of glory
Throng to worship at his birth.

When thick cloud lies over Sinai,
And the trumpet's note rings high,
In Christ the Word I'll pass the barrier,
Climb, and feast, nor fear to die;
For in him all fullness dwelleth,
Fullness to restore our loss;
He stood forth and made atonement
Through his offering on the cross.

He between a pair of robbers
Hung, our Making-good to be;
He gave power to nerve and muscle
When they nailed him to the tree;
He, his Father's law exalting,
Paid our debt and quenched our flame;
Righteousness, in fiery splendour,
Freely pardons in his name.

See, my soul, where our Peace-maker,
King of kings, was lowly laid,
He, creation's life and movement,
Of the grave a tenant made,
Yet on souls fresh life bestowing;
Angels view it with amaze;
God in flesh with us adoring;
Heaven's full chorus shouts his praise.

Thanks for ever, thanks ten thousand,
While I've breath, all thanks and praise
To the God who all his wonders
For my worship here displays,
In my nature tried and tempted
Like the meanest of our race,
Man - a weak and helpless infant,
God - of matchless power and grace.

Gone this body of corruption,
'Mid the fiery hosts on high,
Gazing deep into the wonders
Wrought of old on Calvary,
God, the Invisible, beholding,
Him who lives, yet once was slain,
Clasped in close eternal union
And communion I'll remain.

There, new-fashioned in his likeness,
Veils and fancies done away,
To the Name by God exalted
Highest homage I shall pay.
There, communing in the secret
Seen in those deep wounds he bore,
I shall kiss the Son for ever,
Turning from him nevermore.

---Hymn XXII, by Ann Griffiths
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