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: O let thy hand support me still, And lead me to thy holy hill.
(See Hymns on Repentance.)
PASSION WEEK, AND GOOD FRIDAY
HYMN 61.
Isaiah lxiii. 1—4.
1 WHO 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, Gloricus in the spoil he bears? 2 'Tis the Saviour, now victorious, Trav'ling 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!
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: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to thy 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 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.
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!
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.
HYMN 65.
1 FROM whence these direful omens round, Which heav'n 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 Behold, 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 berne;
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;
O save me, whom thou cam'st to save, Nor bleed, nor die in vain!
HYMN 66.
St. John xix. 30.
1 'TIS finish'd-so the Saviour cried, 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 heav'n 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 ev'ry kind atone; Millions shall be redeem'd from death, By this, my last expiring breath. 5 'Tis finish'd-heav'n is reconcil'd, And all the pow'rs 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 heav'n 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 ev'ry cline behold a home; In ev'ry temple see thy God.
4 No taunting focs 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 ?
1 Cor. v. 8. Rom. vi. 9, 10, 11.
1 SINCE Christ our Passover is slain,
Let all, with thankful hearts, agree To keep the festival:
2 Not with the leaven, as of old, Of sin and malice fed; But with unfeign'd sincerity, And truth's unleaven'd bread.
3 Christ being raised by pow'r divine, And rescu'd from the grave,
Shall die no more; death shall on him No more dominion have.
4 For that he died, 'twas for our sins He once vouchsaf'd to die;
But that he lives, he lives to God For all eternity.
5 So count yourselves as dead to sin, But graciously restor❜d,
And made, henceforth, alive to God, Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
1 CHRIST the Lord is ris'n to day, Sons of men and angels say: Raise your joys and triumphs high, Sing ye heav'ns, and earth reply! 2 Love's redeeming work is done, Fought the fight, the vict'ry won: Jesus' agony is o'er,
Darkness veils the earth no more. 3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Christ has burst the gates of hell; Death in vain forbids him rise, Christ hath open'd paradise.
4 Soar we now where Christ hath led, Following our exalted Head; Made like him, like him we rise; Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.
1 YE faithful souls who Jesus know, If ris'n indeed with him ye are, Superior to the joys below,
His resurrection's pow'r declare:
2 Your faith by holy tempers prove, By actions show your sins forgiv'n, And seek the glorious things above, And follow Christ, your head, to heav'n.
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