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Benjamin Milgrove
(1731 - 1810)
O love divine, what hast thou done!
(S.A.T.B.Kbd.)
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O love divine, what hast thou done!
(S.A.T.B.Kbd.)
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Milgrove was Precentor of the Countess of Huntingdon's Chapel in Bath (see illustration). This setting comes from "Twelve hymns and a favourite lyric poem written by Doctor Watts; set to music for four, and five voices, with organ accompaniments.... " Printed for the author, and sold at his house in Bond Street, Bath, 1781. The general congregation (sometimes divided into men and women) should sing the Air, accompanying harmonies to be taken by the choir.
Lyrics: Charles Wesley
O Love divine, what hast thou done!
Th'immortal God hath died for me!
The Father's co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th'immortal God for me hath died:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Behold Him, all ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of life and peace!
Come see, ye worms, your Maker die,
And say, "Was ever grief like His?"
Come, feel with me His blood applied:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels near to God.
Believe, believe the record true,
Ye all are bought with Jesus' blood.
Pardon for all flows from His side:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Then let us sit beneath His cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream:
All things for Him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to Him:
Of nothing think or speak beside,
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
O Love divine, what hast thou done!
Th'immortal God hath died for me!
The Father's co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th'immortal God for me hath died:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Behold Him, all ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of life and peace!
Come see, ye worms, your Maker die,
And say, "Was ever grief like His?"
Come, feel with me His blood applied:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels near to God.
Believe, believe the record true,
Ye all are bought with Jesus' blood.
Pardon for all flows from His side:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Then let us sit beneath His cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream:
All things for Him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to Him:
Of nothing think or speak beside,
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!