English poem
Christian Songs, Song XXXIII
by John Glas (1809–1894)
See Mercy, Mercy, from on high, Descends to rebels doom'd to die! 'Tis mercy free which knows no bound: How grand, who gladsome is the sound!
2 'Tis grace by righteousness that reigns, Where every God-like beauty shines: So leaves no doubt from whence it came; Then grace divine we dare it name.
3 First mercy favour'd mortal view, When God's own Son an infant grew; And in its full perfection shone, When dying Jesus cry'd, 'Tis done!
4 It triumph'd when from death he rose, And broke the pow'r of all our foes; And since he took his seat on high, Now mercy reigns eternally.
5 Grace down in show'rs of mercy fell, Refreshing thousands ripe for hell; Who lately fill'd with dev'lish wrath, Had doom'd the Lord of heav'n to death.
6 It courts not men of mighty name, But visits those o'erwhelm'd with blame; It makes the poorest wretch look gay, And empty sends the rich away!
7 Let haughty mortals frown and fret, Who sov'reign boundless mercy hate; Thro' all the mansions of the blest, That mercy only is confest.
8 Until we join the happy throng, Let boundless mercy be our song; And may the mighty God confound And all those who dare its course to bound.
9 Amen, the holy prophets cry; Amen, th' apostles loud reply; Amen, thro' all the heav'ns goes round; Amen, let us on earth resound.