6 O Jesus blest!

My help and rest!

With tears I pray-Lord, hear me;
Make me love Thee to the last,

In the grave be near me!

156

J. Rist.

C. Winkworth, Tr.

NEAR

JEAR the cross was Mary weeping,
There her mournful station keeping,
Gazing on her dying Son.

2 There with speechless grief oppressed,
Anguish- stricken, and distressed;
Through her soul the sword had gone.

3 Who, upon that Sufferer gazing, Bowed in sorrow so amazing,

Would not with His mother mourn?

4 'Twas our sins brought Him from heaven; These the cruel nails had driven;

All His griefs for us were borne.

5 When no eye its pity gave us,

When there was no arm to save us,
He His love and power displayed.

6 By His stripes He wrought our healing; By His death our life revealing,

He for us the ransom paid.

7 Jesus, may Thy love constrain us
That from sin we may refrain us,
In Thy griefs may deeply grieve.

8 Thee our best affections giving,
To Thy glory ever living,
May we in Thy glory live.

From "Stabat Mater."
H. Mills, Tr.

158

THERE is a fountain filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel's veins, And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, |: Lose all their guilty stains. : ||

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day;

And there have I, as vile as he,

|: Washed all my sins away. :||

3 Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed church of God
: Be saved to sin no more. : ||

4 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream.
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
I: And shall be, till I die. : ||

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy power to save,

When this poor lisping, stammering tongue : Lies silent in the grave. : ||

W. Cowper.

159

WHAT precious balm and healing,
Jesus, in Thy wounds I find!

Ev'ry hour that I am feeling

Pains of body and of mind;
Should some evil thought rush in,
And provoke my soul to sin,
Thoughts of Thy deep wounds from sinning
Keep me in its first beginning.

2 Should some lust or some temptation
Prove too strong for flesh and blood,
Lo! I think upon Thy passion, .
And the breach is soon made good:
Or should Satan press me hard,
Thinking I am off my guard,
Christ, I say, for me was wounded,
And the tempter flees confounded.

3 If the world my heart entices
On the broad and easy road,
And both by its gay devices
Silence ev'ry thought of God,
When the heavy load I see

Which, dear Lord, was laid on Thee,
I can still each wild emotion,

Calm and blest in my devotion.

4 Yes, whate'er may pain or grieve me,

Thy dear wounds can make me whole;
When my heart sinks, they revive me,
Life pours in upon my soul:
May Thy comfort render sweet

Ev'ry bitter cup I meet;

Thou, who by Thy death and passion
Hast procured my soul's salvation.

J. Heermann. R. Massie, Tr.

160

COME and mourn with me awhile,
And tarry here the cross beside;
O come together, let us mourn;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified!

2 Have we no tears to shed for Him,
While soldiers scoff and Jews deride?
Ah! look, how patiently He hangs;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified!

3 Sev'n times He spake, sev'n words of love;
And all three hours His silence cried
For mercy on the souls of men;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified!

4 O love of God! O sin of man!

In this dread act your strength is tried;
And victory remains with love;
For Thou, our Lord, art crucified!

F. W. Faber.

161

GL

LORY be to Jesus,

Who in bitter pains

Poured for me the life-blood
From His sacred veins.

2 Grace and life eternal
In that blood I find,
Blest be His compassion
Infinitely kind!

3 Blest through endless ages
Be the precious stream,
Which from sin and sorrow
Does the world redeem!

4 Abel's blood for vengeance
Pleaded to the skies;
But the blood of Jesus
For our pardon cries.

5 Oft as earth exulting
Wafts its praise on high,
Angel hosts, rejoicing,
Make their glad reply.

6 Lift ye then your voices;
Swell the mighty flood;
Louder still and louder,
Praise the precious Blood!

163

THERE is a green hill far away,

Without a city wall,

E. Caswall, Tr.

Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.

2 We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains He had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.