Jesus drinks the bitter cup,
The wine press treads alone:
Tears the graves and mountains up,
By His expiring groan:
Lo! the pow’rs of heav’n He shakes,
Nature in convulsion lies;
Earth’s profoundest center quakes,
The great Redeemer dies.

O my God, He dies for me,
I feel the mortal smart!
See Him hanging on the tree,
A sight that breaks my heart!
O that all to Thee might turn!
Sinners, ye may love Him too;
Look on Him ye pierced, and mourn
For one who bled for you.

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