“Nothing But Shame and Deep Disgrace”: A Hymn, 1774
Detail from Samson Occom's journal, The Occom Circle, Darthmouth.edu
Occom published a collection of hymns in 1774, some of them his own compositions. This hymn was his most popular, and was reprinted many times over the next hundred years, often retitled as “The Indian Song.”
From A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774)
1
Throughout the Saviour’s Life we trace,
Nothing but Shame and deep Disgrace,
No period else is seen;
Till he a spotless Victim fell,
Tasting in Soul a painful Hell,
Caus’d by the Creature’s Sin.
2
On the cold Ground methinks I see
My Jesus kneel, and pray for me;
For this I him adore;
Siez’d with a chilly sweat throughout,
Blood-drops did force their Passage out
Through ev’ry open’d Pore.
3
A pricking Thorn his Temples bore;
His Back with Lashes all was tore,
Till one the Bones might see;
Mocking, they push’d him here and there,
Marking his Way with Blood and Tear,
Press’d by the heavy Tree.
4
Thus up the Hill he painful came,
Round him they mock, and make their Game,
At length his Cross they rear:
And can you see the mighty God,
Cry out beneath sin’s heavy Load,
Without one thankful Tear?
5
Thus vailed in Humanity,
He dies in Anguish on the Tree;
What Tongue his Grief can tell?
The shudd’ring Rocks their Heads recline,
The mourning Sun refuse to shine,
When the Creator fell.
6
Shout, Brethren, shout in songs divine,
He drank the Gall, to give us Wine,
To quench our parching Thirst:
Seraphs advance your Voices higher;
Bride of the Lamb, unite the Choir,
And Laud thy precious Christ.
Source: “Hymn LXXVII. The Sufferings of Christ,” from A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs; Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774), pp. 78–79.
From A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774)
1
Throughout the Saviour’s Life we trace,
Nothing but Shame and deep Disgrace,
No period else is seen;
Till he a spotless Victim fell,
Tasting in Soul a painful Hell,
Caus’d by the Creature’s Sin.
2
On the cold Ground methinks I see
My Jesus kneel, and pray for me;
For this I him adore;
Siez’d with a chilly sweat throughout,
Blood-drops did force their Passage out
Through ev’ry open’d Pore.
3
A pricking Thorn his Temples bore;
His Back with Lashes all was tore,
Till one the Bones might see;
Mocking, they push’d him here and there,
Marking his Way with Blood and Tear,
Press’d by the heavy Tree.
4
Thus up the Hill he painful came,
Round him they mock, and make their Game,
At length his Cross they rear:
And can you see the mighty God,
Cry out beneath sin’s heavy Load,
Without one thankful Tear?
5
Thus vailed in Humanity,
He dies in Anguish on the Tree;
What Tongue his Grief can tell?
The shudd’ring Rocks their Heads recline,
The mourning Sun refuse to shine,
When the Creator fell.
6
Shout, Brethren, shout in songs divine,
He drank the Gall, to give us Wine,
To quench our parching Thirst:
Seraphs advance your Voices higher;
Bride of the Lamb, unite the Choir,
And Laud thy precious Christ.
Source: “Hymn LXXVII. The Sufferings of Christ,” from A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs; Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774), pp. 78–79.
mocking: bully, jeer
anguish: suffering pain
brethren: brothers, fellow members
gall: bile, bitter contents of the stomach
seraphs: higher angels
laud: praise
Background
Occom published a collection of hymns in 1774, some of them his own compositions. This hymn was his most popular, and was reprinted many times over the next hundred years, often retitled as “The Indian Song.”
Transcript
From A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774)
1
Throughout the Saviour’s Life we trace,
Nothing but Shame and deep Disgrace,
No period else is seen;
Till he a spotless Victim fell,
Tasting in Soul a painful Hell,
Caus’d by the Creature’s Sin.
2
On the cold Ground methinks I see
My Jesus kneel, and pray for me;
For this I him adore;
Siez’d with a chilly sweat throughout,
Blood-drops did force their Passage out
Through ev’ry open’d Pore.
3
A pricking Thorn his Temples bore;
His Back with Lashes all was tore,
Till one the Bones might see;
Mocking, they push’d him here and there,
Marking his Way with Blood and Tear,
Press’d by the heavy Tree.
4
Thus up the Hill he painful came,
Round him they mock, and make their Game,
At length his Cross they rear:
And can you see the mighty God,
Cry out beneath sin’s heavy Load,
Without one thankful Tear?
5
Thus vailed in Humanity,
He dies in Anguish on the Tree;
What Tongue his Grief can tell?
The shudd’ring Rocks their Heads recline,
The mourning Sun refuse to shine,
When the Creator fell.
6
Shout, Brethren, shout in songs divine,
He drank the Gall, to give us Wine,
To quench our parching Thirst:
Seraphs advance your Voices higher;
Bride of the Lamb, unite the Choir,
And Laud thy precious Christ.
Source: “Hymn LXXVII. The Sufferings of Christ,” from A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs; Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774), pp. 78–79.
Excerpt
From A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774)
1
Throughout the Saviour’s Life we trace,
Nothing but Shame and deep Disgrace,
No period else is seen;
Till he a spotless Victim fell,
Tasting in Soul a painful Hell,
Caus’d by the Creature’s Sin.
2
On the cold Ground methinks I see
My Jesus kneel, and pray for me;
For this I him adore;
Siez’d with a chilly sweat throughout,
Blood-drops did force their Passage out
Through ev’ry open’d Pore.
3
A pricking Thorn his Temples bore;
His Back with Lashes all was tore,
Till one the Bones might see;
Mocking, they push’d him here and there,
Marking his Way with Blood and Tear,
Press’d by the heavy Tree.
4
Thus up the Hill he painful came,
Round him they mock, and make their Game,
At length his Cross they rear:
And can you see the mighty God,
Cry out beneath sin’s heavy Load,
Without one thankful Tear?
5
Thus vailed in Humanity,
He dies in Anguish on the Tree;
What Tongue his Grief can tell?
The shudd’ring Rocks their Heads recline,
The mourning Sun refuse to shine,
When the Creator fell.
6
Shout, Brethren, shout in songs divine,
He drank the Gall, to give us Wine,
To quench our parching Thirst:
Seraphs advance your Voices higher;
Bride of the Lamb, unite the Choir,
And Laud thy precious Christ.
Source: “Hymn LXXVII. The Sufferings of Christ,” from A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs; Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians, of All Denominations (New London CT, 1774), pp. 78–79.
mocking: bully, jeer
anguish: suffering pain
brethren: brothers, fellow members
gall: bile, bitter contents of the stomach
seraphs: higher angels
laud: praise
