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When Israel's sons, a murmuring race,
Despised their heavenly bread,
God bade his fiery serpents fly
To strike the rebels dead.
Swift, like an arrow, through the air,
The baleful reptiles fly;
The rebels feel the deadly wound,
And groan, and gasp, and die.
A part still live; but O, what looks!
What agonizing pain!
The fatal darts stick fast within,
And human help is vain.
Now Moses feels his Israel's griefs,
To God for them he prays;
A brazen serpent he's to make,
And on a pole to raise.
How strange the means! but in his hand
The remedy how sure!
Not one that viewed the healing brass
But found immediate cure!
Thus Jesus on the sacred cross
Is lifted up on high;
Sinners, now look, to him by faith,
And you shall never die.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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Num 21:3-9; Jn 3:14;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1815 | # 59 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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LLOYD
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 50 | Eb | | # 79 | Eb | | # 29 | F | | # 230 | No key |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
