Can I Survey this Scene of Woe?

A Hymn for Good Friday:

Stretched on the cross, the Saviour dies;

Hark! his expiring groans arise!

See, from his hands, his feet, his side,

Runs down the sacred crimson tide!

But life attends each deathful sound,

And flows from every bleeding wound;

The vital stream, how free it flows,

To save and cleanse his rebel foes!

To suffer in the traitor’s place,

To die for man, surprising grace!

Yet pass rebellious angels by –

O why for man, dear Saviour, why?

Can I survey this scene of woe,

Where mingling grief and wonder flow?

And yet my heart unmoved remain,

Insensible to love or pain?

Come, dearest Lord, thy power impart,

To warm this cold and stupid heart;

Till all its powers and feelings move

In melting grief and ardent love.

-Anne Steele (died 1778) in Gadsby's Hymns, No 1123