Imatges de pÓgina
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WARNER. L. M.

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1. O'er the dark wave of Galilee The gloom of twilight gathers fast,

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227. L. M.

2. The weary bird hath left the air,

And sunk into his sheltered nest;
The wandering beast has sought his lair,
And laid him down his welcome rest.

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the wa-ters dreari ly Descends the fit ful evening blast.

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3. Still near the lake, with weary tread,
Lingers a form of human kind;
And on His lone, unsheltered head,
Flows the chill night-damp of the wind.

4. Why seeks He not a home of rest?

Why seeks He not a pillowed bed? Beasts have their dens, the bird its nest; He hath not where to lay His head.

6. Such was the lot He freely chose,

To bless. to save the human race;
And through His poverty there flows
A rich, full stream of heavenly grace.

RUSSELL.

2. Hark! from the midnight hills around,
A voice of more than mortal sound,
In distant hallelujahs stole,

Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul.

Templi Carmina.

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3. On wheels of light, on wings of flame,
The glorious hosts of Zion came;
High heaven with songs of triumph rung,
While thus they struck their harps and sung: |

228. L. M.

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1. WHEN Jordan hushed his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion's hill,
When Bethlehem's shepherds, through the
Watched o'er their flocks by starry light, 3.

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4. "O Zion, lift thy raptured eye;
The long-expected hour is nigh;
The joys of nature rise again;
The Prince of Salem comes to reign.

5. "See, Mercy, from her golden urn,

Pours a rich stream to them that mourn;
Behold, she binds, with tender care,
The bleeding bosom of despair.

6. He comes to cheer the trembling heart;
Bids Satan and his host depart;
Again the day-star gilds the gloom,
Again the bowers of Eden bloom."

T. CAMPBELL.

229. L. M.

1. How sweetly flowed the gospel sound
From lips of gentleness and grace,
When listening thousands gathered round,
And joy and gladness filled the place!

2. From heaven He came, of heaven He spoke
To heaven He led his followers' way;
Dark clouds of gloomy night He broke,
Unveiling an immortal day.

"Come, wanderers, to my Father's home;
Come, all ye weary ones, and rest:"
'Yes, sacred Teacher, we will come,

Obey Thee, love Thee, and be blest.

4. Decay, then, tenements of dust;

Pillars of earthly pride. decay:
A nobler mansion waits the just,
And Jesus has prepared the way.

BOWRING.

BRENTFORD. L. M.

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1. How beauteous were the marks divine, That in Thy meekness used to shine; That

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In won-drous love, 0 Son of God!

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3. Lord, bring these precious moments back,
When, fainting, against sin we strain;
Or in Thy counsels fail to track
Aught but the present grief and pain.

4. In weakness, help us to contend;

In darkness, yield to God our will;
And true hearts, faithful to the end,
Cheer by Thine holy angels still!

232. L. M.

1. HAVE we no tears to shed for Him,
While soldiers scoff, and Jews deride?
Ah! look, how patiently He hangs-
Jesus, our love, is crucified!

2. What was Thy crime, my dearest Lord?
By earth, by heaven, Thou hast been tried,
And guilty found of too much love;
Jesus, our Love, is crucified!

3. Found guilty of excess of love,

was Thine own sweet will that tied Thee tighter far than helpless nails; Jesus, our Love, is crucified!

4. O break, O break, hard heart of mine!
Thy weak self-love and guilty pride
His Pilate and his Judas were;
Jesus, our Love, is crucified!

5. A broken heart, a fount of tears-
Ask, and they will not be denied;
A broken heart love's cradle is;
Jesus, our Love, is crucified!

LYRA. CATH.

WILLIAMS. L. M.

1. When I survey

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the wondrous cross, On which the Prince of Glory died,

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My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all

233. L.M.

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 thorus 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.

WATTS.

234. L. M.

1. RIDE on, ride on in majesty!
Hark! all the tribes hosanna cry!
Thy humble beast pursues his road,
With palms and scattered garments strowed.

Arranged from Templi Carmina.

2. Ride on, ride on in majesty !

In lowly pomp ride on to die!
O Christ! thy triumphs now begin,
O'er captive death and conquered sin.

3. Ride on, ride on in majesty !

The winged squadrons of the sky

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my pride.

Look down with sad and wondering eyes, To see the approaching sacrifice.

4. Ride on, ride on in majesty!

Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh;
The Father on his sapphire throno
Expects his own anointed Son!

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MILMAN.

235. L. M.

1. HE dies!-the friend of sinners dies; Lo! Salem's daughters weep around; A solemn darkness veils the skies;

A sudden trembling shakes the ground.

2. Here's love and grief beyond degree; The Lord of glory dies for men; But lo! what sudden joys we see! Jesus, the dead, revives again.

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.

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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 forever, glorious King,

Born to redeem, and strong to save! Where now, O Death, where is thy sting? And where thy victory, boasting Grave?

WATTS.

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GETHSEMANE. L. M.

1. 'Tis midnight, and on Olive's brow, The star is dimm'd that lately shone; 'Tis midnight, in the

garden now The suffering Saviour prays a-lone, The suffering Saviour prays a lone.

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239. L. M.

2. 'Tis midnight—and, from all removed, Immanuel wrestles lone, with fears; E'en the disciple that he loved

Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.

3. 'T is midnight-and, for others' guilt,

The Man of sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet He, who hath in anguish knelt,
Is not forsaken by His God.

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4. T is midnight-and, from ether-plains, Is borne the song that angels know; Unheard by mortals are the strains

That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe.

240. L. M.

1. BEHOLD the Man! how glorious He! Before His foes He stands unaw'd, And, without wrong or blasphemy, He claims equality with God.

2. Behold the Man! by all condemn'd,
Assaulted by a host of foes;
His person and His claims contemn'd,
A Man of sufferings and of woes.

3. Behold the Man! He stands alone, His foes are ready to devour; Not one of all His friends will own Their Master in this trying hour.

Arranged by CH. BEECHER.

4. Behold the Man! though scorn'd below, He bears the greatest name above; The angels at His footstool bow,

And all His royal claims approve.

CHRISTIAN PSALMIST.

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3. The scourge, the Thorns, the deep disgraceThese Thou could'st bear, nor once repine; But when Jehovah veiled His face, Unutterable pangs were Thine.

242. L.M.

1. 'Tis finished!-so the Saviour cried, And meekly bowed His head, and died; 'Tis finished!-yes, the race is run, The battle fought, the vict'ry won

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2. "Tis finished!-let the joyful sound Be heard through all the nations round: "T is finished!-let the echo fly, Through heaven and hell, through earth and sky

STENNET.

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