As Man, for man was made a curse.
The claims of law which He had made,
Unto the uttermost He paid.
Which grew the thorns that crowned His brow.
The nails that pierced His hands were mined
In secret places He designed.
The tree on which His body hung.
He died upon a cross of wood,
Yet made the hill on which it stood.
By Him above the earth was spread.
The sun that hid from Him its face
By His decree was poised in space.
Was tempered in the fires of God.
The grave in which His form was laid,
Was hewn in rocks His hands had made.
Was His from everlasting years.
But a new glory crowns His brow.
And every knee to Him shall bow.