"He That Spared Not His Own Son" (Romans 8.82)

by Jarvis, A. G. | Category: The Reformation | Mar 1964

He spared Him not ... Oh wondrous mystery

That we might be redeemed, and cleansed, and free!

'Twas planned before the first created light

Flashed forth to illume creation's primal night.

Before eternal times God's purpose stood,

That through Christ Jesus man's eternal good

Should be secured. Through God's great Gift of grace,

Lost sinners should for ever find a place

In Christ, in Him be saved and blest,

And with His spotlessness for ever drest.

So fitted, thus in heaven's light to stand

For ever as a happy blood-bought band,

There to remember with adoring love

The One who came from those high realms above,

Came down to earth (the manger's outside place),

And thence to Nazareth, in youth to grace

That ill-famed city with His presence pure,

There hardship, toil and sorrow to endure.

He spared Him not those toilsome humble years

In which He learned obedience, oft with tears

Those thirty years of unrecorded love

To those around, and to His God above.

No flaw, no fault of sinful word or thought

Within the texture of His youth was wrought.

But ever pure and holy were His ways,

Mid Naz'reth's foulness, His a life of praise.

The eye of God the Father ever scanned

His "Well Beloved", as on the path He planned,

His Son moved onward with unfaltering pace

To that great moment when the world He'd face.

He heard His Father's witness, This my Son,

Beloved, has my full approval won,

(God's seal is set upon those hidden years

Of toil, submission, in His joy and tears).

He spared Him not from the dark tempter's guile -

Would He turn stones to bread? - from temple's pile

E'en from its pinnacle would He now leap

And trust the mighty angels so to keep

His feet from being dashed against a stone?

(As charged by Him who sits on heaven's throne).

Rebuffed, defeated, still the tempter tried,

With hellish malice his temptations plied.

All earth's fair kingdoms in their glory bright

He caused to pass before the Saviour's sight.

"If thou wilt but fall down and worship me

Then all these kingdoms I will give to Thee."

What fearful blasphemy! what hateful sin!

Thus to assay the Holy One to win

From His allegiance and subjection true,

Who came to earth His Father's will to do.

But "It is written", foiled the tempter's power,

Christ gained the victory in that lonely hour.

He faced the world at thirty years of age,

To know its spite, envenomed hate, and rage;

To know its darkness, vice, and crime, and shame,

Its sickness, sorrow, tears, and lonely pain.

See orphan's tears, the widow's broken heart,

Sin blighted bodies - these are the world's part,

Which follow in the train of sin. He wept

As infinite compassion through Him swept.

As "Man of Sorrows" well He knew the art

To heal the wounded, bind the broken heart.

"With grief acquainted", He could wipe the tears

Of sad bereavement, suffering, and fears.

He spared Him not from man's averted gaze.

"Despised, rejected," all His earthly days

He knew the blasphemy, the biting scorn,

By slight and sneer His tender heart was torn.

He oft on mountain, midnight vigil kept,

As there He pleaded, agonized, and wept

For those who hated Him without a cause,

He gave Himself no respite, rest, or pause

He came in love His Father's will to do,

And ever kept His mighty work in view.

He spared Him not Gethsemane's dark fear,

As Calv'ry's dread and lonely test drew near.

Gethsemane is plunged in gloomy night,

Now Satan's hosts are mustered for the fight.

The moon, whose full-orbed brightness shone elsewhere,

Is dimmed, scarce can it find an entrance there.

Great olive trees their sombre shadows east

Until the Saviour's agony is past.

The deep foreboding of approaching woe

Caused from that kneeling form the drops to flow,

Great drops of sweat, yes, drops like blood did fall

While He to God His Father then did call.

Disciples, overborne with sorrow, slept,

While He, the Man of Sorrows, prayed and wept.

Sad hour, precursor of the hours when He

Would hang in darkness on the accursed tree.

The garden's gloom was lightened by the rays

Of a bright angel from the realms of praise,

Who strengthened Him to face the coming storm,

So soon to burst upon His toil-worn form.

He spared Him not those awful hours of gloom,

When on the cross He bore the sinner's doom.

How dark at mid-day; solemn was that night,

When Jesus fought that last decisive fight.

No sorrow like His sorrow e'er could be,

Who there, in love, paid the full penalty

For all our sins, transgressions, all our debt.

There, once for ever, all was fully met.

Thus we were saved from Hell's eternal night,

To share God's glory with the saints in light.

Once more we stand in rev'rence by the tree

To hear from Him the shout of victory,

"Tis finished!" What a triumph-cry was this,

Which for believers means eternal bliss

He spared Him not (He was God's Gift to men),

His own Beloved Son, to die. And then

He raised Him high, to heaven's highest place,

Investing Him with power supreme, that grace

Might ever flow to sinners in their need,

Who bow to Him, and own that His indeed

Is honour, glory through eternity,

For His great work accomplished on the tree.

With this great Gift all other gifts are given,

The gifts for which some men have vainly striven,

Eternal life, and peace, and joy, and love,

And an abiding heritage above,

To join in heaven's holy songs of praise,

As on our matchless Saviour we shall gaze.

And ever dearest to our hearts shall be

The marks He bears, received at Calvary.

And then th'exceeding riches of God's grace

Shall flow for ever in that happy place.

No eye hath seen, no ear hath heard, nor thought

Conceived the things that God for us hath wrought.

No human mind hath power itself to see

The glorious secrets of eternity.

Through endless years we'll see His plan unfold,

And still exclaim, "The half hath not been told".

One thing unique amidst "all things" doth stand.

'Tis the great bridal by the Father planned,

Planned for His Son, His own dear Son, a Bride

To be for ever, always at His side,

The Bride He loved, for whom He gave His life,

That she might be His very own, His wife.

"This mystery is great" beyond all thought,

That creatures by redeeming grace are brought

At last to stand at their Redeemer's side,

His own, His Church, His holy spotless Bride.

Such visions baffle our poor earthly sight.

We cannot plumb the depth, nor scale the height,

Nor scan the breadth, or length of His great love.

Enough! We know that we shall dwell above,

See face to face and know as we've been known.

To us for ever shall His grace be shown,

Then in greater and increasing measure

We all shall drink the river of His pleasure.

Jarvis, A. G. | Mar 1964
The Reformation

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