This one gets me every time I hear it. Read it slowly and take it in.
In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.
I saw One hanging on a tree,
In agonies and blood,
Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.
Sure, never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;
It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.
My conscience felt and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair,
I saw my sins His blood had spilt,
And helped to nail Him there.
Alas, I knew not what I did,
But now my tears are vain;
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain.
A second look He gave, which said,
“I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayst live.”
Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.
With pleasing grief and mournful joy,
My spirit is now filled;
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by him I killed.
– John Newton
This one gets me every time I hear it.
Surely John Newton (if you know his story) had his own horrid images in mind when he wrote about his former, evil, wild career. He had his regrets. We all do.
Part of genuine conversion is genuine conviction, contrition, sorrow and regret over sin. The conscience must feel and own the guilt. But as it does, the other part of true conversion is understanding, believing, and fully relying on the One who hung on the tree to take it all away. All of it. All the way away.
That same death displays sin in all its blackest hue and the grace of God in all of its fullness.
Such is the mystery of grace – death and life, guilt and no condemnation, pleasing grief and mournful joy.