On the Crucifixion

From whence these dire Portents around, That Earth and Heav'n amaze? Wherefore do Earthquakes cleave the Ground, Why hides the Sun his Rays?

Not thus did Sinai's trembling Head With sacred Horror nod, Beneath the dark Pavilion spread O legislative God.

Thou, Earth, thy lowest Center shake With Jesu sympathize! Thou Sun, as Hell's deep Gloom be black, 'Tis thy Creator dies!

See streeming from th'accursed Tree His all atoning Blood! Is this the Infinite? 'Tis he, My Saviour and my God!

For me these Pangs his Soul assail, For me the Death is born! My Sin gave sharpness to the Nail And pointed every Thorn!

Let Sin no more my Soul inslave! Break, Lord, the Tyrant's Chain! O save me, whom thou cam'st to save, Nor bleed nor die in vain!