This Bridge of timbers nailed
Won’t fail to lead across, to that
Paradise unlost and Love unveiled

This Pulpit lifted high
Still cries with wordless voice, of the
Choicest love of Love, Who for us died

This Fountain rough and knotted
Bespotted with the Blood, that has
Flooded all the world; our stain unblotted

This Gibbet we concurred in
Procured by selfish, mad demands
A Man it bore, Who bore for man his burden

This Mock’ry of hell’s trying, of that
Tyrant overthrown, who
Bemoans the death of Death by Love’s undying

This crimson-chrismed Cross
Embossed with every name, who will
Claim their life, if only self be lost

Of heaven’s beams, this Beacon
Will streak ‘n blind despair; a Shrine of
Prayer and Tree of Life for all who seek Him

To save His friends, this Slave
Was slain, enwrapped, entombed; but would
Soon out-live, and leave for good, that grave!

Hell’s hit-list notwithstanding, He
Disbands the Foe’s platoons; from those
Flowing Wounds, His peace and mercy raining

And His Reign of love unceasingly

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