THE SINBEARER.

"He was wounded for our transgressions; He was bruised for our iniquities."-ISA. liii. 5.

THY works, not mine, O Christ,

Speak gladness to this heart;

They tell me all is done;

They bid my fear depart.

To whom save thee,

Who can alone

For sin atone,

Lord, shall I flee !

Thy pains, not mine, O Christ,
Upon the shameful tree,
Have paid the law's full price,
And purchased peace for me.

To whom, save thee, &c.

Thy tears, not mine, O Christ,
Have wept my guilt away;

And turned this night of mine

Into a blessed day.

To whom, save thee, &c.

Thy bonds, not mine, O Christ,

Unbind me of my chain,

And break my prison-doors,

Ne'er to be barred again.

To whom, save thee, &c.

Thy wounds, not mine, O Christ,
Can heal my bruised soul,

Thy stripes, not mine, contain

The balm that makes me whole.

To whom, save thee, &c.

Thy blood, not mine, O Christ,
Thy blood so freely spilt,
Can blanch my blackest stains
And purge away my guilt.

To whom, save thee, &c.

Thy cross, not mine, O Christ,

Has borne the awful load

Of sins that none in heaven

Or earth could bear, but God.

To whom, save thee, &c.

Thy death, not mine, O Christ,
Has paid the ransom due ;
Ten thousand deaths like mine,
Would have been all too few.

To whom, save thee, &c.

THE SUBSTITUTE.

"Jesu, plena caritate

Manus tuæ perforatæ

Laxent mea crimina;

Latus tuum lanceatum,

Caput spinis coronatum,

Hæc sint medicamina."-OLD HYMN.

I LAY my sins on Jesus,

The spotless Lamb of God;

He bears them all and frees us

From the accursed load.

I bring my guilt to Jesus,

To wash my crimson stains, White in his blood most precious, Till not a spot remains.

I lay my wants on Jesus;
All fulness dwells in Him.

He heals all my diseases,

He doth my soul redeem.

THE FULNESS OF THE SUBSTITUTE.

I lay my griefs on Jesus,

My burdens and my cares;
He from them all releases,
He all my sorrows shares.

I rest my soul on Jesus,
This weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,
I on his breast recline.
I love the name of Jesus,

Immanuel, Christ, the Lord,
Like fragrance on the breezes,
His name abroad is poured.

I long to be like Jesus,
Meek, loving, lowly, mild,

I long to be like Jesus,
The Father's holy child.
I long to be with Jesus

Amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints his praises,

To learn the angel's song.

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