�It is finished,� all the pain
All the sorrow, all the strain;
Death has freed the Lord of life
From the burden of His strife.�It is finished,� all the days,
Led through many weary ways;
Now at last His eyelids close
On the hatred of His foes.
�It is finished,� all the love,
Deep as His that dwells above;
Saving others, all He gave,
But Himself He could not save.
�It is finished,� Hark! the cry,
Uttered in love�s agony,
Is the seal, below, above,
Of the victory of love. |
