I bow my soul before thy throne,
And say, Thy will, not mine, be done."

3 Thus our submissive souls would bow,
And, taught by Jesus, lie as low;

Our hearts, and not our lips alone, Would say, Thy will, not ours, be done. 4 Then, though, like him, in dust we lie, We'll view the blissful moment nigh, Which, from our portion in his pains, Calls to the joy in which he reigns.

L. M.

182.

STENNETT.

"It is finished."

"'T is finished!" so the Saviour cried
And meekly bowed his head and died:
"T is finished!" yes, the race is run,
The battle fought, the victory won.

2 ""T is finished!" all that heaven foretold
By prophets in the days of old;
And truths are opened to our view,
That kings and prophets never knew.

3 "T is finished!" Son of God, thy power
Hath triumphed in this awful hour;
And yet our eyes with sorrow see
'That life to us was death to thee.

C. M.

183.

"Peace! be still!"

MRS. HEMANS.

1 FEAR was within the tossing bark,

When stormy winds grew loud,

And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bowed.

2 And men stood breathless in their dread,
And baffled in their skill;

But One was there, who rose and said
To the wild sea, "Be still!

3 And the wind ceased; it ceased! that word
Passed through the gloomy sky,
The troubled billows knew their Lord,
And sank beneath his eye.

4 Thou that didst rule the angry hour,
And tame the tempest's mood,
O, send thy Spirit forth in power
O'er our dark souls to brood!

5 Thou that didst bow the billows' pride, Thy mandates to fulfil,

Speak, speak, to passion's raging tide,

Speak and say,

S. M.

"Peace, be still!"

"If I be lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men unto me."

1

BEHOLD the amazing sight,

The Saviour lifted high!

Behold the Son of God's delight
Expire in agony !

2 For whom, for whom, my heart,
Were all these sorrows borne ?
Why did he feel that piercing smart,
And meet that various scorn?

3

4

5

For love of us he bled,

And all in torture died;

'T was love that bowed his fainting head And oped his gushing side.

I see, and I adore,

In sympathy of love;

I feel the strong, attractive power
To lift my soul above.

Drawn by such cords as these,
Let all the earth combine,
With cheerful ardor, to confess
The energy divine.

6 In thee our hearts unite,
Nor share thy griefs alone,

But from thy cross pursue their flight,
To thy triumphant throne.

8 & 7 s. M.

185.

The Cross of Christ.

BOWRING.

1 IN the cross of Christ I glory,

Towering o'er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story

Gathers round its head sublime.

2 When the woes of life o'ertake me,
Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me;
Lo! it glows with peace and joy.

3 When the sun of bliss is beaming
Light and love upon my way,
From the cross the radiance streaming
Adds more lustre to the day.

4 Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure,
By the cross are sanctified;

Peace is there that knows no measure,
Joys that through all time abide.

5 In the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o'er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story

1

Gathers round its head sublime.

S. M.

186.

EVANG. LUTH. COL.

Sufferings, Death, and Resurrection of Christ.

AUTHOR of life and bliss!

Thy goodness I adore.

O, give me strength to speak thy praise,
And grace to love thee more!

2 First for this world, so fair,
My daily thanks shall rise;
For every comfort, every joy,
Thy bounteous hand supplies.

3 But yet a nobler cause

Demands my warmest love;
Can words describe the wondrous gift
Descending from above?

4 The Saviour dwelt on earth;
He died, that we might live ;
Endured the sorrows of the cross,
Immortal hope to give.

5 Ah, who can tell the scorn
That our Redeemer bore?

Or who describe the mental grief,
Which his blest bosom tore?

7

6 Low in the grave he lay,

While darkness veiled the skies.
But, lo!he bursts the bands of death;
To glory see him rise!

Father! this work is thine;
For us thou gav'st thy Son.
O, may we all devoted be,

And live to thee alone!

C. M.

187.

R. WALKER'S COL.

Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ.

1 THE gracious Saviour bowed his head,
And drew his parting breath;
And as he lived to vanquish sin,
He died to conquer death.

2 Three days, so high behests ordained,
Death triumphed o'er his prize;
The hour of grace at length arrived,
Behold the Conqueror rise!

3 He rose triumphant to his God;
He winged to heaven his flight,
Where endless ages he shall reign
Enthroned in realms of light.

4 Wondrous the grace, that gave to death
The best-beloved of God;

That bade the Saviour feel for us
Affliction's keenest rod.

5 With every grateful thought inspired,
Devoutly let us raise

Our humble voice to mercy's throne,
In never-ceasing praise.