A light to shine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb.
2 (Where is the blessedness I knew,
When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

3 What peaceful hours I then enjoy'd;
How sweet their mem'ry still;
But now I feel an aching void
The world can never fill.)

4 Return, O holy Dove, return,
Sweet messenger of rest;

I hate the sins that make thee mourn,
And drive thee from my breast.

5 The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne,
And worship only thee.

6 So shall my walk be close with God;
Calm and serene my frame;
So purer light shall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.

THE PASSION WEEK.

HYMN 23.

1 Behold the mighty Saviour comes
From Edom's hostile plains;
A crimson vesture he assumes,
And blood his raiment stains.
From Bozrah glorious he appears;
His robes with vict❜ry shine;

(C. M.)

Complete salvation, lo, he wears,
With majesty divine.

3 Why thus array'd, mysterious man,
In vests of purple glow?

Why are thy garments dy'd with streams
That from the vine press flow?

4 "The wine press I myself have trod,
And with me there was none;
Your strength and your salvation stood
Complete in me alone."

HYMN 24.

1 See what unbounded zeal and love
Inflam'd the Saviour's breast,
When steadfast tow'rds Jerusalem
His urgent way he press'd.

2 Good will to man, and zeal for God
His ev'ry thought engross
He hastes to be baptiz'd with blood;
He longs to reach his cross.

3 With all his suff'rings full in view,
And woes to us unknown,
Forth to the work his spirit flew;
Love only urged him on.

(o. M.)

4 Prepare us, Lord, to view the cross
Where all our griefs were borne;
To look on thee whom we have pierc❜d;
To look on thee and mourn.

HYMN 25.

1 Listen, my soul, while Jesus prays

In dark Gethsemane:

"Father, if it be possible,

Remove this cup from me?"

(c. M.)

2 What must have been the bitter draught
Of that mysterious cup!
"Nevertheless, thy will be done;
Content, I drink it up."

3 Then on the cold and midnight ground
He bows his sacred face;
Tortur'd with unknown agony,
More earnestly he prays.

4 Angels support his sinking frame;
Blood oozes from his veins:

My wond'ring soul, hence learn the weight Of thy Redeemer's pains.

HYMN 26.

1 Go to sad Gethsemane,

Ye that feel the tempter's pow'r; Your Redeemer's conflict see;

Watch with him one bitter hour. Turn not from his griefs away; Learn from him to watch and pray. 2 See him in the judgment hall,

At th' unrighteous bar arraign'd; See him meekly bearing all

See how love his soul sustain❜d. Shun not suff'ring, shame, or loss; Learn of him to bear the cross.

HYMN 27.

(III. 4.)

1 'Twas on that dark, that doleful night,
When powers of earth and hell arose
Against the Son of God's delight,
And friends betray'd him to his foes:

(L, M.)

2 Before the mournful scene began,
He took the bread, and bless'd and brake;
What love through all his actions ran!
What wondrous words of grace he spake!
3 "This is my body broke for sin;
Receive and eat the living food:"

Then took the cup and bless'd the wine;
"This the new covenant in my blood:"
"Do this," he cried, "till time shall end;
Meet at my table and record

The kindness of your dying friend;
The love of your departed Lord."

GOOD FRIDAY.

HYMN 28.

1 From whence these direful omens round, Which heaven and earth amaze?

(c. M.)

Wherefore do earthquakes cleave the ground? Why hides the sun his rays?

2 Well may the earth astonish'd shake,
And nature sympathize:

The sun, as darkest night be black;
The great Redeemer dies!

3 Behold, fast streaming from the tree
His all-atoning blood!

Is this Immanuel?-Even he;-
My Saviour and my God!

4 For me these pangs his soul assail:
For me this death is borne:

My sins gave sharpness to the nail,
And pointed ev'ry thorn.

5 Let sin no more my soul enslave;
Break, Lord, its tyrant chain:

Oh, save me, whom thou cam'st to save,
Nor bleed, nor die in vain.

HYMN 29.

1 Hark, the voice of love and mercy Sounds aloud from Calvary;

See the rocks are rent asunder;
Darkness veils the mid-day sky.
"It is finish'd,"

Hear the dying Saviour cry.
20 what joy to helpless sinners
These triumphant words afford!
Heav'nly blessings without number
Flow to us from Christ the Lord.
It is finish'd—”

Saints the dying words record.

3 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs;
Strike them to Immanuel's name:
All on earth and all in heav'n
Join the triumph to proclaim.
"It is finish'd;"

Glory to the bleeding Lamb.

HYMN 30.

1 When I survey the wond'rous 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 cross of Christ, my God:

(III. 3.)

(L. M.)