1 Whilst I shall track the Depth of Love,
Which so transparently doth shine,
No more in Reason's Path I rove,
To search the Mystery divine.
From all that's sensual flies my Heart,
And enters deep Infinity,
With Spirits blest to bear a Part,
In one melodious Harmony.

2 Helpless in Infancy I see,
In likeness of a sinful Worm,
Reduc'd to Shame and Poverty,
My God in most despised Form:
He liv'd but until the eighth Day,
Ere he commenc'd the suff'ring Lamb,
By holy sign to put away
Our Flesh Pollutions, and our Shame.

3 Our spreading Filth contracted close,
Within the compass of a Span,
Affrights the Child from calm Repose,
To feel the Misery of Man;
His Life was painful, void of Rest,
Full or Reproach, contempt and Scorn;
With weighty Griefs and woes opprest,
Till all Chastisements be had borne.

4 The more in Years he did increase,
The more its Pressure he did feel,
Till Time drew near when Sin should cease,
And he his Testament should seal;
Then Sin and Satan had the Sway,
To vex, accuse him, and condemn,
Whilst God did all his Wrath display,
To end all Sin, and Man redeem.

5 Thy Conflicts in thine Agony,
When strengthen'd by a kind Support,
Shews how our pond'rous Load did lie
With Anguish on thy vey Heart;
Trembling beneaht our Curse and woe,
With Groans in most excessive Pain,
Thy bloody Sweat, like Rivers flow,
Collected from descending Rain.

6 Now see him destin'd to the Cross,
With dreadful Horror sore oppress'd,
There Sin sustain'd its endless Loss,
And all Transgression there hath ceas'd.
High as an Ensign there he hangs,
In Blood, by Heav'n and Earth forsook;
All Nature groan'd in dreadful Pangs,
And Earth's Foundations rudely shook.

7 His Life expiring with a Groan,
His soul starts from his Body torn;
The Bride came to her native Home,
From all his Wounds renew'd and born:
'Tis finish'd! loud the Echo sounds,
Our ransom Price is fully paid;
The Father's pleas'd to see those Wounds,
Where Sin is slain, and Vengeance staid.

8 His lifeless Body drain'd of Blood,
Then was fulfill'd that faithful Word,
Spoken of old by Men of God;
How Nature spoil'd, should be restor'd;
'Twas done when radiant he arose
Triumphant over Death and Hell;
Then in him rose the darling Spouse,
With him in all his Bliss to dwell.

9 God's royal Cloathing now are we,
And he that mark'd us with his Name,
Together with the Son made free,
For-ever perfect, without Blame.
One Life, one Joy with him we have:
Whilst in this World's bewilder'd Maze,
We nothing more desire or crave,
Incessantly we Jesus praise!