HYMN 59.

(C. M.) 1 HOW oft, alas! this wretched heart

Has wander'd from the Lord!
How oft my roving thoughts depart,
Forgetful of his word!

2 Yet sovereign mercy calls, "Return;"
Dear Lord, and may I come?
My vile ingratitude I mourn;

O, take the wand' rer home.

3 And canst thou, wilt thou yet forgive,
And bid my crimes remove?
And shall a pardon'd rebel live
To speak thy wondrous love?

4 Almighty grace, thy healing power,
How glorious, how divine!

That can to life and bliss restore
So vile a heart as mine.

5 Thy pard' ning love, so free, so sweet,
Dear Saviour, I adore;

1

O keep me at thy sacred feet,
And let me rove no more.

THOU, to whose all searching sight The darkness shineth as the light, Search, prove my heart; it looks to thee, O burst its bonds, and set it free!

2 Wash out its stains, remove its dross,
Bind my affections to the cross;
Hallow each thought, let all within
Be clean, as thou, my Lord, art clean..
3 If in this darksome wild I stray,
Be thou my light, be thou my way;
No foes, no violence I fear,

No harm, while thou, my God, art near.
4 When rising floods my soul o'erflow,
When sinks my heart in waves of wo,
Jesus, thy timely aid impart,

And raise my head, and cheer my heart. 5 Saviour! where'er thy steps I see, Dauntless, untir'd, I follow thee:"

1

O let thy hand support me still,
And lead me to thy holy hill.

See Hymns on Repentance.

PASSION WEEK, AND GOOD FRIDAY.

WHO

HYMN 61.

Isaiah Ixiii. 1-4.

(III. 4.)

HO is this that comes from Edom,
All his raiment stain'd with blood,

To the captive speaking freedom,
Bringing and bestowing good;
Glorious in the garb he wears,
Glorious in the spoil he bears?
2 'Tis the Saviour, now victorious,
Trav'lling onward in his might;
'Tis the Saviour, O how glorious
To his people is the sight!
Satan conquer'd, and the grave,
Jesus now is strong to save.

3 Why that blood his raiment staining?
'Tis the blood of many slain;
Of his foes there's none remaining,
None, the contest to maintain:
Fall'n they are, no more to rise,
All their glory prostrate lies.
4 Mighty Victor, reign for ever,
Wear the crown so dearly won!
Never shall thy people, never,

Cease to sing what thou hast done!
Thou hast fought thy people's foes;
Thou hast heal'd thy people's woes!

HYMN 62.

(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 cross of Christ, my All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to thy blood.

God:

3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did ere such love and sorrow meet?
Or thorns compose a Saviour's crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my life, my soul, my all.

HYMN 63.

(C. M.)

1 BEHOLD the Saviour of mankind Nail'd to the shameful tree;

How vast the love that him inclin'd

To bleed and die for me!

2 Hark, how he groans! while nature shakes,
And earth's strong pillars bend!
The temple's veil in sunder breaks,
The solid marbles rend.

3 'Tis done! the precious ransom's paid,
"Receive my soul!" he cries;

See where he bows his sacred head!
He bows his head and dies!

4 But soon he'll break death's envious chain, And in full glory shine;

O Lamb of God! was ever pain,
Was ever love like thine!

HYMN 64.

1 MY Saviour hanging on the tree, In agonies and blood,

(C. M.)

Methought once turn'd his eyes on me,
As near his cross I stood.

2 Sure, never till my latest breath
Can I forget that look;

It seem'd to charge me with his death,
Though not a word he spoke.

3 My conscience felt and own'd the guilt,
And plung'd me in despair;

I saw my sins his blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail him there.

4 Alas! I knew not what I did;
But now my tears are vain;

Where shall my trembling soul be hid ?
For I the Lord have slain.

5 A second look he gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive:

"This blood is for thy ransom paid,
"I die, that thou may'st live."

6 Thus, while his death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,

(Such is the mystery of grace,) It seals my pardon too.

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

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!
Their Maker, Jesus, dies!

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

Is this the Infinite? 'tis 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;

1

O save me, whom thou cam❜st to save,
Nor bleed, nor die in vain!

HYMN 66.

St. John xix. 30.

(L. M.)

IS finish'd-so the Saviour cried,

'TIS

And meekly bow'd his head and died;
'Tis finish'd-yes, the work is done,
The battle fought, the vict'ry won.

2 'Tis finish'd-all that heaven decreed,
And all the ancient prophets said,
Is now fulfill'd, as long design'd,
In me, the Saviour of mankind.

3 'Tis finish'd-Aaron now no more
Must stain his robes with purple gore;

The sacred veil is rent in twain,
And Jewish rites no more remain.
4 "Tis finish'd-this, my dying groan,
Shall sins of every kind atone:

Millions shall be redeem'd from death,
By this, my last expiring breath.
5 "Tis finish'd-heaven is reconcil'd,
And all the powers of darkness spoil'd:
Peace, love, and happiness, again
Return and dwell with sinful men.
6 'Tis finish'd-let the joyful sound
Be heard through all the nations round;
'Tis finish'd let the echo fly

Through heaven and hell, through earth and sky

1 HIGH on the bending willows hung,
Israel, still sleeps the tuneful string?
Still mute remains the sullen tongue,
And Zion's song denies to sing?
2 Awake! thy loudest raptures raise;
Let harp and voice unite their strains:
Thy promis'd King his sceptre sways;
Behold, thy own Messiah reigns.
3 By foreign streams no longer roam,
And, weeping, think on Jordan's flood;
In every clime behold a home;
In ev'ry temple see thy God.

4 No taunting foes the song require;
No strangers mock thy captive chain;
Thy friends provoke the silent lyre,
And brethren ask the holy strain.
5 Then why on bending willows hung,
Israel, still sleeps the tuneful string?
Why mute remains the sullen tongue,
And Zion's song delays to sing?

EASTER.

HYMN 68.

(C. M.)

1 Cor. v. 8. Rom. vi. 9, 10, 11.

1 SINCE Christ our Passover is slain,

A sacrifice for all,