Ad Visionem

I dreamed, and saw upon a rugged tree
My Lord with thorns and dripping wounds incurred
For me a wretched man, that God might see
The Son in me and all my sin transferred.

Hung on that cross, the Lord beheld my blind
And mocking heart deserving death—and spoke.
Forgive, Abba, forgive! Then in my mind
His cry of grace unveiled my face. I woke.

What now, when I refuse to do the same
For friends whose calloused hearts laugh, joke, and scoff?
My unforgiving heart then mocks your name;
I mar your perfect gift and throw it off.

Oh Lord, that I may e’er extend your grace,
Oh Lord, until I see your shining face.