ODE I. On Redeeming Love

The subject oh how warm! 'Tis love divine to man, 'Tis love extending Heav'ns high arm To execute the plan.

The amazing plan of grace, Above the Seraph's ken, To save by Christ, a ruin'd race, And make them blest again.

Be thou my soul on fire, With more than Angel's love; Behold the great Messiah came To purchase realms above.

For thee, my soul, for thee, He left Heav'ns bright abode, And veil'd in humble flesh, he died Beneath thy guilty load!

Thy load of guilt he bore; Then broke the chains of death; And open'd wide Heav'n's blissful door For guilty sons of earth.

He intercedes for thee; His pow'rful aid is giv'n To conquer all thy baneful foes, And make thee meet for Heav'n.

Oh bow before his throne, Adoring muse his praise, Whose love no language can express, No human tho't can trace.

My muse attempts in vain To reach Parnassus' top; Eager she spreads her wings again, But oh! how soon they drop!

Cease then, my muse, be mute my tongue, The theme too vast—too high the song For thy poor notes, 'till thou shalt rise And join thy choir above the skies.