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The Father Sent The Son

By Miss H. K. Burlingham (1842-1901)


The Father sent the Son
A ruined world to save;
Man meted to the sinless One
The cross—the grave.
Blest Substitute from God,
Wrath's awful cup He drained;
Laid down His life, and e'en the tomb's
Reproach sustained.

Earth shuddered as He died,
God's well-beloved Son;
The darkness sought His woes to hide;
His work is done.
He lives to die no more,
Joy dwells upon His brow;
His agonies untold are o'er,
He triumphs now!

The new and living way
Stands open now to heav'n;
Thence, where the blood is seen alway,
God's gift is giv'n.
The river of His grace,
Through righteousness supplied,
Is flowing o'er the barren place
Where Jesus died.

The Lord shall come again;
The Conqueror must reign.
No tongue but shall confess Him then,
The Lamb once slain.
Jesus is worthy now
All homage to receive;
Worthy that all to Him should bow,
The truth believe.

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The Father Sent the Son