In evil long I took delight, Unawed by shame or fear, Till a new object struck my sight, And stopped my wild career. I saw One hanging on a tree, In agony and blood, Who fixed His languid eyes on me, As near His cross I stood. 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. 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. A second look He gave, which said, ???I freely all forgive; This blood is for thy ransom paid; I die that thou mayst live.??? Thus, while His death my sin displays In all its blackest hue, Such is the mystery of grace, It seals my pardon too.