This was compassion like a God,

This was compassion like a God,
That when the Saviour knew
The price of pardon was his blood,
He pity ne'er withdrew.

Now though he reigns exalted high,
His love is still as great;
Well he remembers Calvary,
Nor let his saints forget.

Here we behold his bowels roll,
As kind as when he died;
And see the sorrows of his soul
Bleed through his wounded side.