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2 Other refuge have I none-
Helpless hangs my soul on thee:
Leave, oh! leave me not alone!
Still support and comfort me.
Hide me, O my Saviour! hide,
Till the storm of life be past;
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh receive my soul at last!

125

C. M.

Franklin. Dedham.

Christ the Way, Truth, and Life.

THOU art the WAY-to thee alone
From sin and death we flee;
And he who would the Father seek,
Must seek him, Lord, by thee.

2 Thou art the TRUTH-thy word alone
True wisdom can impart ;

Thou only canst inform the mind,
And purify the heart.

3 Thou art the LIFE-the rending tomb
Proclaims thy conquering arm,

And those who put their trust in thee
Nor death, nor hell shall harm.

4 Thou art the WAY-the TRUTH-the LIFE;
Grant us that way to know,

That truth to keep-that life to win,

126

Whose joys eternal flow.

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JESUS, my truth, my way,
My sure, unerring light,
On thee my feeble soul I stay,
Which thou wilt lead aright.
2 My wisdom, and my guide,
My counsellor thou art;
Oh never let me leave thy side,
Or from thy paths depart!

127

H. M.

Darwell's. Triumph.

Resurrection of Christ.

YES! the Redeemer rose,
The Saviour left the dead,

And o'er our hellish foes

High raised his conquering head;

In wild dismay,

The guards around

Fall to the ground,

And sink away.

2 Behold th' angelic bands
In full assembly meet,
To wait his high commands,
And worship at his feet.

Joyful they come,

And wing their way

From realms of day
To Jesus' tomb.

3 Then back to heaven they fly
The joyful news to bear-
Hark! as they soar on high,

What music fills the air!

Their anthems say

"Jesus, who bled,

Hath left the dead

He rose to-day."

4 Ye mortals! catch the sound-
Redeemed by him from hell,

And send the echo round

The globe on which you dwell;

Transported, cry-
"Jesus, who bled,

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Hath left the dead,
No more to die."

Bath Abbey. Lincoln.

f" ANGELS! roll the rock away !
Death! yield up thy mighty prey!
See!-herises from the tomb,
Rises with immortal bloom.
2 'Tis the Saviour-seraphs, raise
Your triumphant shouts of praise;
Let the earth's remotest bound
Hear the joy-inspiring sound.
3 Lift, ye saints-lift up your eyes!
Now to glory see him rise!
Hosts of angels on the road

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Hail and sing th' incarnate God.

4 Heaven unfolds its portals wide:
Gracious conqueror, through them ride,
King of glory! mount thy throne,
Boundless empire is thine own.

5 Praise him, all ye heavenly choirs,
Praise, and sweep your golden lyres;
Praise him in the noblest songs,

Praise him from ten thousand tongues.

129

C. M.

Howard's. Litchfield.

BLEST morning, whose first dawning rays
Beheld our rising God;

That saw him triumph o'er the dust,

And leave his dark abode.

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2 In the cold prison of a tomb
The great Redeemer lay-

Till the revolving skies had brought
The third, th' appointed day.

3 Hell and the grave unite their force
To hold the Lord in vain ;

Behold the mighty conqueror rise,
And burst their feeble chain.

4 To thy great name, almighty Lord,
These sacred hours we pay,
And loud hosannas shall proclaim,
The triumph of the day.

130

S. M. St. Thomas. Paddington.

Redemption completed by the Resurrection.

Solo.

11 "THE Lord is risen indeed!"—

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Semi-chorus.

Then justice asks no more;
Mercy and truth are now agreed,
Who stood opposed before.

Solo.

2 "The Lord is risen indeed!"

Semi-chorus.

Then is his work performed;
The mighty captive now is freed,
And death, our foe, disarmed.

Solo.

3 "The Lord is risen indeed!"→

Semi-chorus.

Then hell has lost his prey:
With him is risen the ransomed seed,
To reign in endless day.

Solo.

4 "The Lord is risen indeed!"

Semi-chorus.

Attending angels hear;

Up to the courts of heaven, with speed,
The joyful tidings bear.

Chorus.

5 Then wake your golden lyres,
And strike each cheerful chord;
Join, all ye bright, celestial choirs,
To sing our risen Lord.

131

78.

Edyfield. Lincoln.

CHRIST, the Lord, is risen to-day,
Our triumphant holy day:

He endured the cross and grave,
Sinners to redeem and save.
2 Lo! he rises-mighty King!
Where, O death! is now thy sting?
Lo! he claims his native sky!
Grave! where is thy victory?
3 Sinners! see your ransom paid,
Peace with God forever made:
With your risen Saviour, rise;
Claim with him the purchased skies.
4 Christ, the Lord, is risen to-day,
Our triumphant holy day:
Loud the song of victory raise ;
Shout the great Redeemer's praise.

132

7s.

Pilton. Lincoln.

CHRIST, the Lord, is risen to-day,
Sons of men, and angels, say!
Raise your songs of triumph high;
Sing, ye heavens-and earth, reply!
2 Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight-the battle won:
Lo! our sun's eclipse is o'er-
Lo! he sets in blood no more.

3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal-
Christ hath burst the gates of hell:
Death in vain forbids his rise,
Christ hath opened paradise.

4 Lives again our glorious King-
Where, O death, is now thy sting?
Once he died, our souls to save-
Where thy victory, boasting grave?
5 Soar we now where Christ hath led,
Following our exalted head:

Made like him-like him we rise,
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies!

78.

Lincoln. Edyfield.

133 Darkness of the Tomb scattered by Christ.

MORNING breaks upon the tomb,
Jesus scatters all its gloom!
Day of triumph! through the skies,
See the glorious Saviour rise!
2 Ye who are of death afraid,
Triumph in the scattered shade;

Drive your anxious cares away;
See the place where Jesus lay.
3 Christians, dry your flowing tears;
Chase your unbelieving fears;
Look on his deserted grave;

Doubt no more his power to save

8s & 7s.

Sicilian Hymn.

134 Christ, the Lamb, enthroned and worshipped

HARK, ten thousand harps and voices
Sound the note of praise above-
Jesus reigns, and heaven rejoices;
Jesus reigns the God of love:
See, he sits on yonder throne;
Jesus rules the world alone.

2 Jesus, hail! whose glory brightens
All above, and gives it worth;
Lord of life-thy smile enlightens,

Cheers, and charms thy saints on earth:
When we think of love like thine

Lord, we own it love divine.

3 King of glory, reign forever-
Thine an everlasting crown:
Nothing from thy love shall sever

Those whom thou hast made thine own;
Happy objects of thy grace,

Destined to behold thy face.

4 Saviour, hasten thine appearing;
Bring-oh bring the glorious day,
When, the awful summons hearing,
Heaven and earth shall pass away:
Then with golden harps, we'll sing-
"Glory, glory to our King."

135

C. M.

Devizes. Marlow.

BEHOLD the glories of the Lamb,
Amid his Father's throne;
Prepare new honors for his name,
And songs before unknown.
2 Let elders worship at his feet,
The church adore around,
With vials full of odors sweet,
And harps of sweeter sound.

3 Those are the prayers of all the saints,
And these the hymns they raise :

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