« PreviousContinue »
The Lord's Day.
Bless'd morning, whose young dawning rays
That saw Him triumph o'er the dust,
And leave His last abode!
In the cold prison of a tomb
Till the revolving skies had brought
Hell and the grave unite their force
To Thy great name, Almighty Lord,
Salvation and immortal praise
To our victorious King;
Let heaven and earth, and rocks and seas,
With glad hosannas ring.
The Lamb of God Worshipped by the whole Creation.
Come let us join our cheerful songs
With angels round the throne;
Ten thousand thousand are their tongues,
But all their joys are one.
"Worthy the Lamb that died," they cry,
"Worthy the Lamb," our lips reply,
"For He was slain for us."
Jesus is worthy to receive
Honour and power divine;
And blessings more than we can give,
Let all that dwell above the sky,
The whole creation join in one,
The Righteousness of Christ.
No more, my God, I boast no more
Now for the love I bear His name,
Yes, and I must and will esteem
The best obedience of my hands,
Faith in Christ our Sacrifice.
Not all the blood of beasts
Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away the stain.
But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
A sacrifice of nobler name
My faith would lay her hand On that dear head of Thine, While like a penitent I stand, And there confess my sin.
My soul looks back to see
Believing, we rejoice
To see the curse remove:
We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice, And sing His bleeding love.
Death and Emmediate Glory.
There is a house not made with hands,
And here my spirit waiting stands,
Shortly this prison of my clay
Must be dissolved and fall;
'Tis He, by His Almighty grace,
We walk by faith of joys to come;
We're absent from the Lord.
'Tis pleasant to believe Thy grace, But we had rather see;
We would be absent from the flesh,
And present, Lord, with Thee.
Moses Dying in the Embrace of God.
Death cannot make our souls afraid,
We may walk through its darkest shade,
I could renounce my all below,
And run, if I were call'd to go,
And die as Moses did.
Might I but climb to Pisgah's top,
Clasp'd in my heav'nly Father's arms,
And lose my life among the charms
The Death and Burial of a Saint.
Why do we mourn departing friends?
Are we not tending upward too
As fast as time can move?
Nor should we wish the hours more slow,
Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.