Tuesday, 4 November 2008

Whit Ails Ye At Jesus?

Provided by: June Marshall (Portadown) and Gordon Steel (Glasgow)
Source: “Sacred Scotch Solos" by Alexander Halliday
Date: Circa 1920?
Tune: not stated


The Gospel’s aye soundin’, salvation is free
An’ there’s no ane need perish that wants it
It was Jesus wha broucht it tae set sinners free
And He says unto a’ Come an’ tak’ it
It’s God’s lovin’ gift tae a vile rebel race
A’ whaur is the love could surpass it
He was led like a lamb to the stake to be slain
An’ for a’ He’s despised an’ rejected

Whit ails ye at Jesus? O whit ails ye at Jesus?
I’m sure ye ne’er kent o’ ony sae lovin’ and true
Aye the mair that I think my hert gangs tae lo’e Him
An’ there’s no ane beside Him, poor sinner, for you

Noo, jist bide a wee, an’ think whit it cost Him
That frae sin, daith and hell He micht set us a’ free
He rowed up His grandeur, and left a’ His glory
An’ cam’ doun a puir man to save you an’ me
Sae jist look a wee at His wilderness journey
See Him tempt forty days when hungry was He
Then wore in Gethsemane, whaur He sweat wi’ fair ag’ny
Aye, big draps o’ bluid, for tae lift you an’ me

Then roon’ Him gaithered men jist like demons
An’ dragged Him tae Pilate his judgement tae gie
Though they wrangly accused Him, and cruelly used Him
Ye He stood like ane guilty tae screen you an’ me
Aye, for us there He stood, and His bare back He bowed
While they scourged Him wi’ vengeance, ilka smash they could gie
Till His back was sair chattered, an’ His bluid roon’ them splattered
‘Twas oor stripes He taen, freens, to hal’ you an’ me

Then they laid on His back the cross fur tae cairry
An’ He staggered awa’ tae Gilgothy tae dee
Whaur He ga’ed up Himsel’ as a ransom fur sinners
An’ shed His last drap o’ bluid, freens, tae buy you an’ me
Then doon through the grave, owre death an’ hell he triumphed
An’ rose the third day; life eternal brocht He
Noo He offers salvation to ony puir sinner
And says, there’s no ane will perish that comes unto Me