"The Word was made flesh, and tabernacled among us… full of grace and truth" (John 1:14).
God the Word, the High and Holy,
All creation's Lord and Heir,
Stooped to creature-likeness lowly,
All the creature's load to bear:
God the Word in flesh incarnate,
Sacred mystery divine;
All the fulness of the Godhead
In a holy human shrine.
He whom all the hosts of heaven,
Whom the myriad worlds obey,
O'er His vast creation wieldeth
Sovereign and almighty sway;
From the glory to the manger,
Son of Man, to serve He came-
In obedience and dependence
Glorify the Father's name.
Far from God the world had wandered,
And the Evil sat enthroned;
E'en His own, His chosen people,
His Messiahship disowned.
In the scene He fair had fashioned,
Rich o'er all His mercies shed,
God Incarnate-Man of Sorrows,
Had no where to lay His head!
But the One whose power and wisdom
In Creation we behold,
Came Redemption's greater glories,
Hidden mysteries, to unfold:
Came in love to save the sinful,
Hush earth's bitter wail of pain,
Make redeemed creation radiant
With the glories of His reign.
Oh, how sin had marred the creature
In His own fair image made-
Helpless, hopeless, bruised, and broken,
At His feet despairing laid.
But His mighty love enfoldeth,
Takes the stricken to His heart,
For the Man of Sorrows ever
In all sorrow has a part.
All the Father's love revealing
Spake as never man before;
Power divine in word and healing
Witness to the truth He bore:
Giving all in loving service
In the thronged path He trod,
All the creature's burden bearing
On His heart alone with God
From their sin, their shame and sorrow,
To Himself He called His own;
For He came to seek the wandering,
And to save the lost and lone.
And the weary, heavy-laden,
Sad and sin-defiled, drew nigh,
And the Infinite in Mercy
Stilled each broken, contrite cry.
But the nation sees no beauty
In the meek and lowly One,
Nor the veiled divine Shekinah
Of the well-beloved Son ;
And the God they claim to worship,
As their daily offerings rise
In the glory of His temple,
In His grace they scorn, despise.
David's root and David's offspring,
Royal honors He could claim;
But of thorns His crown was fashioned,
And His throne a cross of shame:
All at naught they set His glory,
While they trampled on His grace,
And they rendered as their homage
Scornful smitings on the face.
Oh, 't is perfect Love's obedience
In death's deepest depths displayed,
When He gave Himself a ransom
On the brazen altar laid:
When the slumbering sword of judgment
Did awake in wrath to smite,
And the billows, dark, overwhelming,
Wrapped His stricken soul in night.
" It is finished! " Love hath triumphed!
The atoning blood is shed!
And the thorns now wreathe with glory
The Almighty Victor's head!
"It is finished! " All the judgment
Due to sin divinely borne;
And His night of death and darkness
Ushers in Redemption's morn.
"It is finished"-Sin's dominion
For the Lord's redeemed is o'er,
And the name of God the Father
Glorified for evermore.
All the way of life stands open
To the sprinkled throne on high,
And the children to the Father
Brought in love for ever nigh.
In the fragrance of His offering,
In the Sanctuary above,
As the Great High Priest, He waiteth
On His ministry of love :
On His hands for ever graven,
Serving ever all His own,
Bearing all in love unwearied,
On His heart before the throne.
W. L. G.