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3 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.
4 Break off your tears, ye saints! and tell
How high our great Deliverer reigns;
Sing, how he spoiled the hosts of hell,
And led the tyrant, death, in chains.
5 Say,-"Live for ever, glorious King!

Born to redeem, and strong to save!"
Then ask,-" O death! where is thy sting?
And where thy vict'ry, boasting grave?"
88, 78 and 4.

158.

The expiring Saviour.

1 HARK! the voice of love and mercy
Sounds aloud from Calvary;
See!-it rends the rocks asunder-

Shakes the earth-and veils the sky:
"It is finished!"-

Hear the dying Saviour cry.

2 "It is finished!"-Oh! what pleasure
Do these charming words afford!
Heavenly blessings, without measure,

Flow to us through Christ, the Lord:
"It is finished!"-

Saints! the dying words record.
3 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs!
Join to sing the pleasing theme:
All in earth and heaven, uniting,
Join to praise Immanuel's name:
Hallelujah!-

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!

L. M.

159.

Salvation by the Cross.

1 HERE at thy cross, incarnate God!
I lay my soul beneath thy love,-
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus!-nor shall it e'er remove.

2 Should worlds conspire to drive me hence, Moveless and firm this heart should lie;

Resolved, for that's my last defence,

If I must perish, here to die.
3 But speak, my Lord! and calm my fear;

Am I not safe beneath thy shade ?
Thy vengeance will not strike me here,

Nor Satan dare my soul invade.
4 Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood,

And all my foes shall lose their aim;
Hosanna to my Saviour-God,
And my best honors to his name !

L. M. 160.

Christ's Passion.
1 THE morning dawns upon the place,

Where Jesus spent the night in prayer;
Through yielding glooms behold his face!

Nor form, nor comeliness is there.
2 Brought forth to judgment, now he stands

Arraigned, condemned, at Pilate's bar;
Here, spurned by fierce prætorian bands,

There, mocked by Herod's men of war. 3 He bears their buffeting and scorn,

Mock-homage of the lip, the knee-
The purple robe, the crown of thorn,

The scourge, the nail, th' accursed tree. 4 No guile within his mouth is found,

He neither threatens nor complains;
Meek, as a lamb for slaughter bound,

Dumb, mid his murderers he remains. 5 But hark! he prays;-'t is for his foes;

He speaks ;-'t is comfort to his friends;
Answers,-and paradise bestows:

He bows his head ;-the conflict ends. 6 Truly this was the Son of God

Though in a servant's mean disguise;
And, bruised beneath the Father's rod,
Not for himself,- for man he dies,

L. M. 161.

A dying Saviour. 1 STRETCHED on the cross, the Saviour dies!

Hark! his expiring groans arise:

See-from his hands, his feet, his side,

Fast flows the sacred crimson tide! 2 But life attends the deathful sound,

And flows from every bleeding wound:
The vita) stream,-how free it flows,

To save and cleanse his rebel-foes ! 3 Can I survey this scene of wo,

Where mingling grief and wonder flow,
And yet my heart unmoved remain,

Insensible to love or pain?
4 Come, dearest Lord! thy grace impart

To warm this cold, this stupid heart;
Till all its powers and passions more,
In melting grief and ardent love.

L. M.
162. Love inscribed on the Cross.
1 WE sing the praise of him who died-

Of him who died upon the cross;
The sinner's hope let men deride,

For this we count the world but loss. 2 Inscribed upon the cross we see,

In shining letters,-“ God is Love :"
He bears our sins upon the tree,

He brings us mercy from above.
3 The cross !-it takes our guilt away,

It holds the fainting spirit up;
It cheers with hope the gloomy day,

And sweetens every bitter cup. 4 It makes the coward-spirit brave,

And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
It takes its terrors from the grave,

And gilds the bed of death with light. 5 The balm of life, the cure of wo,

The measure and the pledge of love; "T is all that sinners want below, "T is all that angels know above.

L. M. Double. 163.

Contrition at the Cross. 1 FAST flow, my tears! the cause is great;

This tribute claims an injured friend ;

One whom I long pursped with hate,

While he would love me to the end :
When justice frowned above my head,
And death its terrors round me spread,
He interposed, the wounds he bore,

And bade me live to die no more.
2 Fast flow, my tears ! yet faster flow!

Streams copious as yon purple tide:
Who was it gave the deadly blow?

Who urged the hand that pierced his side ?
My soul! thy victim here behold,
What pangs, what agonies untold,
While justice, armed with power divine,

Pours on his head what's due to thine ! 3 Fast and yet faster flow, my tears!

Now break this heart, and drown these eyes
His visage marred toward heaven he rears,

And, pleading for his murderers, dies !
My grief no measure knows, nor end,
Till he appears the sinner's Friend,
And gives me, in some happy hour,
To feel the risen Sayiour's power.

L. M. 164. Christ crucified, the Wisdom and Porder of God. I NATURE with open volume stands,

To spread her Maker's praise abroad;
And every labor of his hands

Shows something worthy of a God. 2 But, in the grace that rescued man,

His brighiest form of glory shines ;
Here, on the cross, 't is fairest drawn,

In precious blood and crimson lines. 3 Oh! the sweet wonders of that cross,

Where Christ, the Saviour, loyed and died : Her noblest life my spirit draws,

From his dear wounds and bleeding side, 4 I would for ever speak his name,

In sounds to mortal ears unknown;
With angels join to praise the Lamb,

And worship at his Father's throne.

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L. M.
165.

Crucifixion to the World.
1 WHEN I survey the wondrous cross,

On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord! that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to his blood.
3 See,- from his head, his hands, his feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down:
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small;
Love, so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

L. M.
166. The Hidings of the Father's Face.
1 FROM Calvary a cry was heard

A bitter and heart:rending cry!
My Savionr! every mournful word

Bespeaks thy soul's deep agony.
2 A horror of great darkness fell

On thee, thou spotless, holy One!
And all the swarming hosts of hell

Conspired to tempi God's only Son.
3 The scourge, the thorns, the deep disgrace,

These thou could'st bear, nor once repine;
But when Jehovah veiled his face,

Unutterable pangs were thine.
4 Let the dumb world its silence break!

Let pealing anthems rend the sky!
Awake, my sluggish soul ! awake!

He died, that we might never die.
Lord! on thy cross I fx mine eye:

If e'er I lose its strong control,
Oh! let that dying, piercing cry,

Melt and reclaim my wandering soul.

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