How condescending, and how kind
Was God’s eternal Son!
Our mis’ry reach’d his heav’nly mind,
And pity brought him down.

When Justice, by our sins provok’d,
Drew forth its dreadful sword,
He gave his soul up to the stroke
Without a murm’ring word.

Here let our hearts begin to melt
While we his death record,
And with our joy for pardon’d guilt,
Mourn that we pierc’d the Lord.

A. Accept from me this cedar tree,
And keep it evermore,
An emblem true of love in you,
The one that I adore.

B. Its foliage green is always seen,
Nor withers in the frost;
So constant love too strong will prove,
To be forgot or lost.

Recordings 1, 2