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Before thy Father's face

Thou hast prepared a place, That where thou art, there they may also be.

6 & 10s. M.


Bearing the Cross.
1 BURDEN of shame and woe!

How does the heart o'erflow
At thought of him the bitter cross who bore !

But we have each our own,

To others oft unknown, Which we must bear till life shall be no more.

2 And shall we fear to tread

The path where Jesus led, The pure and holy one, for man who died ?

Or shall we shrink from shame,

Endured for Jesus' name, Our glorious Lord, once spurned and crucified ?

3 Then, ’mid the woes that wait

On this our mortal state,
Patience shall cheer affliction, toil, and loss,

And though the tempter's art

Assail the struggling heart, Still, Saviour! in thy name we bear the cross.

78. M.



Christ crucified and glorified.

i Bound upon the accursèd tree,

Faint and bleeding, who is he?
By the cheek so pale and wan,
By the crown of twisted thorn,

By the side so deeply pierced,
By the baffled, burning thirst,
By the drooping, death-dewed brow,
Son of Man! 't is thou! 't is thou!

2 Bound upon the accursèd tree,

Sad and dying, who is he?
By the last and bitter cry,
The life breathed out in agony,
By the lifeless body laid
In the chamber of the dead,
Crucified! we know thee now:
Son of Man! 't is thou! 'tis thou !

3 Bound


the accursèd tree,
Dread and awful, who is he?
By the prayer for them that slew,
“ Lord! they know not what they do,"
By the sealed and guarded cave,
By the spoiled and empty grave,
By that clear, immortal brow,
Son of God! 'tis thou! 't is thou!

L. M.



Christ's Submission.

1 “FATHER divine!” the Saviour cried,

While horrors pressed on every side, And prostrate on the ground he lay, « Remove this bitter cup away.

2 " But if these pangs must still be borne,

Or helpless man be left forlorn,
I bow my soul before thy throne,
And say, Thy will, not mine, be done!”

3 Thus our submissive souls would bow,

And, taught by Jesus, lie as low;
Our hearts, and not our lips alone,
Would say, Thy will, not ours, be done!

4 Then, though, like him, in dust we lie,

We'll view the blissful moment nigh,
Which, from our portion in his pains,
Calls to the joy in which he reigns.

L. M.



" It is finished."

1 “'Tis finished!" so the Saviour cried,

And meekly bowed his head and died: 66'T is finished !” yes, the race is run, The battle fought, the victory won.

26'Tis finished!” all that heaven foretold

By prophets in the days of old;
And truths are opened to our view,

That kings and prophets never knew. 3 66°T is finished !” Son of God, thy power

Hath triumphed in this awful hour;
And yet our eyes with sorrow see
That life to us was death to thee.

L. M. 281.

Christ's Dying, Rising, and Reigning.
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 Lord forsakes the tomb;

The tomb in vain forbids his rise;
Cherubic legions guard him home,
And shout him welcome to the skies.

4 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 monster death in chains.

5 Say, “ Live for ever, wondrous King!

Born to redeem and strong to save”;
Then ask the monster, “ Where's thy sting?
And “ Where's thy victory, boasting grave?

78. M.


"It is finished.”.
1 It is finished ! glorious word

From thy lips, our suffering Lord !
Word of high, triumphant might,
Ere thy spirit takes its flight.
It is finished! all is o’er;

Pain and scorn oppress no more. 2 Now, no more foreboding dread

Shades the path thy feet must tread;
No more fear lest in thine hour
Pain should patience overpower;
On the perfect sacrifice
Not a stain of weakness lies.

3 Champion! lay thine armor by;

'Tis thine hour of victory!
All thy toils are now o’erpast;
Thou hast found thy rest at last;
All hath faithfully been done,
And the world's salvation won.

S. M.



The attractive Influence of the Cross.


Behold the amazing sight,

The Saviour lifted high!
Behold the Son of God's delight

Expire in agony!
For whom, for whom, my heart,

Were all these sorrows borne ?
Why did he feel that piercing smart,

And meet that various scorn ?



For love of us he bled,

And all in torture died: 'Twas love, that bowed his fainting head,

And oped his gushing side.
I see, and I adore

In sympathy of love;
I feel the strong, attractive power

To lift my soul above.


C. M.


Looking in the Sepulchre.
1 YE humble souls, that seek the Lord,

Chase all your fears away ;.
And bow with pleasure down to see

The place where Jesus lay.

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