Looking at the cross by John Newton

I saw One hanging on a tree,

In agony and blood,

Who fixed His languid eyes on me,

As near His cross I stood.

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O, can it be, upon a tree,

The Savior died for me?

My soul is thrilled, my heart is filled,

To think He died for me!

Sure, never to my latest breath,

Can I forget that look;

It seemed to charge me with His death,

Though not a word He spoke.

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My conscience felt and owned the guilt,

And plunged me in despair,

I saw my sins His blood had spilt,

And helped to nail Him there.

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A second look He gave, which said,

“I freely all forgive;

This blood is for thy ransom paid;

I die that thou mayst live.”

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