Imatges de pÓgina

S. M.

Olmutz, Haverhill.

3 Thy blood, dear Jesus-thine alone,

Hath sovereign virtue to atone:
Here will we rest our only plea,

When we approach, great God, to thee.
1 NOT all the blood of beasts,

On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the guilty conscience peace,

Or wash away the stain.
2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,

Takes all our sins away;
A sacrifice of nobler name,

And richer blood than they.
Af 3 My faith would lay her hand

On that dear head of thine,
While like a penitent I stand,

And there confess my sin.
4 My soul looks back to see

The burdens thou didst bear,
When hanging on the cursed tree,

And hopes her guilt was there. [ 5 Believing, we rejoice

To see the curse remove;
We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,
And sing his bleeding love.

L. M. 115

Death and Resurrection of Christ.
1 HE dies !-the Friend of sinners dies !

Lo! Salem's daughters woep around!
A solemn darkness veils the skies!

A sudden trembling shakes the ground ! 2 Ye saints, approach!-the anguish view

Of him who groans beneath your load; He gives his precious life for you,

For you he sheds his precious blood.
3 Here's love and grief beyond degree !

The Lord of glory dies for men !
But, lo! what sudden joys we see!

Jésus, the dead, revives again!
4 The rising God forsakes the tomb;

Up to his Father's court he flies;
Cherubic legions guard him home,

And shout him welcome to the skies !



C. M.

Warwick. Brattle Street,

5 Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell

llow high our great Deliverer reigns; Sing how he spoiled the hosts of hell,

And led the tyrant death in chains! 6 Say,“ Live forever, glorious King,

Born to redeem, and strong to save !" Then ask_“ O death, where is thy sting!

And where thy victory, boasting grave!" 116

Sufficiency of the Atonement.
1 THERE is a fountain, filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.
2 The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain, in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,

Wash all my sins away.
3 Thou dying Lamb! thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed Church of God

Are saved, to sin no more.
4 Since first, by faith, I saw the stream

Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been iny theme,

And shall be, till I die.
5 And when this feeble, staminering tongue

Lies silent in the grave-
Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save.

Turin. 117

Christ the Rock of Ages.
1 ROCK of ages! cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From thy side, a healing flood,
Be of fear and sin the cure;

Save from wrath, and make me pure.
2 Should my tears forever flow,


zeal no languor know,
This for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and thou alone :
In my hand no price I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling.



3 While I draw this fleeting breath,

When mine eye-lids close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold thee on thy throne,
Rock of ages! cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee. 118

L. M. Medway. Middlebury.
Christ the Physician of the Soul.
I DEEP are the wounds which sin has made;

Where shall the sinner find a cure ?
lu vain, alas! is nature's aid ;

The work exceeds her utmost power.
2 But can no sovereign balm be found ?

And is no kind physician nigh,
To ease the pain, and heal the

Ere life and hope forever fly?
3 Yes, there's a great physician near;

Look up, my fainting soul, and live!
See, in his heavenly smiles appear

Such help as nature cannot give!
4 See, in the Saviour's dying blood,

Life, health, and bliss abundant flow! 'Tis only that dear sacred flood

Can ease thy pain—and heal thy wo. 119

L. M.

Hebron. Nazareth. 1 WHY droops my soul, with grief oppressed?

Whence these wild tumults in my breast?
Is there no balm to heal my wound ?

No kind physician to be found ?
2 Raise to the cross thy tearful eyes ;

Behold the Prince of glory dies !
He dies extended on the tree,

And sheds a sovereign balm for thee.
3 Dear Saviour, at thy feet I lie,

Here to receive a cure, or die;
But grace forbids that painful fear-

Almighty grace, which triumphs here.
4 Thou wilt withdraw the poisoned dart,

Bind up and heal the wounded heart;
With blooming health my face adorn,
And change the gloomy night to morn.

S. M.


S. M.

[ 5 Exult, my soul, with holy joy;

Hosannas be thy blest employ,
Salvation thine eternal theme,
And swell the song with Jesus' name.

Pentonville, St. Thomas. 120

Christ the Bread of Life.
1 BEHOLD the gift of God!

Sinners, adore his name,
Who shed for us his precious blood-

Who bore our curse and shame.
2 Behold the living bread

Which Jesus came to give,
By dying in the sinner's stead,

That he might ever live.
3 The Lord delights to give;

He knows you've nought to buy:
To Jesus haste—this bread receive,
And you shall never die.

Pentonville. Dover. 121

Christ the Sun of Righteousness.
1 WE lift our hearts thee,

Thou Day-star from on high;
The sun itself is but thy shade,

Yet cheers both earth and sky.
2 Oh let thy rising bearns

Dispel the shades of night;
And let the glories of thy love,

Come like the morning light.
3 How beauteous nature now!-

How dark and sad before !
With joy we view the pleasing change,

And nature's God adore.
4 May we this life improve,

To mourn for errors past;
And live this short revolving day

As if it were our last.

Turin. Sabbath.
LCHRIST, whose glory fills the skies,

Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise,

Triumph o'er the shades of night:
Day-spring from on high, be near;
Day-star, in my heart appear.

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88 & 78.

2 Dark and cheerless is the morn,

If thy light is hid from me;
Joyless is the day's return;

Till thy mercy's beams I see ;
Till they inward light impart,

Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.
3 Visit, then, this soul of mine,

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief;
Fill ine, radiant Sun divine !

Scatter all my unbelief:
More and more thyself display,
Shining to the perfect day.

Sicilian Hymn. 123

Christ the Light of the World.
1 LIGHT of those whose dreary dwelling

Borders on the shades of death!
Rise on us, thyself revealing,

Rise, and chase the clouds beneath.
2 Thou, of life and light Creator!

In our deepest darkness rise ;
Scatter all the night of nature,

Pour the day upon our eyes.
3 Still we wait for thine appearing ,

Life and joy thy beams impart;
Chasing all our fears, and cheering

Every meek and contrite heart.
4 Save us, in thy great compassion,

Oh thou Prince of peace and love!
Give the knowledge of salvation,

Fix our hearts on things above.
5 By thine all-sufficient merit,

Every burdened soul release;
Every weary, wandering spirit
Guide into thy perfect peace.

Hotham. 124

Christ a Refuge.
1 JESUS, Saviour of my soul,

Let me to thy bosom fly;
While the raging billows roll,

While the tempest stil! is high:
All my trust on thee is stayed;

All my help from thee Ibring:
Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of thy wing.


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