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'Tis his last agony: The Temple's veil
Is rent; revealing the most holy place,
Wherein the cheruhim their wings extend,
O'ershadowing the mercy-seat of God.
Appalled, the leaning soldier feels the spear
Shake in his grasp; the planted standard

falls Upon the heaving ground; the son is

dimmed, And darkness shrouds the hody of the Lord.


G. plEtchEr.

When I rememher Christ our hurden hears,

I look for glory, hut find misery;

I look for joy, hut find a sea of tears;

I look that we shonld live, and find him die;

I look for angels' songs, and hear his cry:

Thns what I look, I caunot find so well;

Or father, what 1 find I canuot tell, These hanks so narrow are, those streams so highly swell.

Christ suffers, and in this his tears hegin, Suffers for us, and our joy springs in this; Suffers to death, here is his manhood seen . Suffers to rise, and here his Godhead is, For man, that could not hy himself have rise, Out of the grave doth hy the Godhead

rise, And God, that could not die, in manhood dies, That we in hoth might live hy that sweet sacrifice.

What hetter friendship than to cover shame?
What greater love, than for a friend to die 1
Yet this is hetter to asself the hlame,
And this is greater for an enemy:
But more than this, to die, not suddenly,
Not with some common death, or easy

pain, But slowly, and with torments to he slain: O depth without a depth, far hetter seen

than say'n!

And yet the Son is humhled for the slave, And yet the slave is proud hefore the Son:

Yet the Creator for his creature gave Himself, and yet the creatore hastes to rna From his Creator, and self-good doth shoo: And yet the Prince, and God himself doth

cry To man, his traitor, pardon not to fly; Yet man his God, and traitor doth his Printe defy.'

A tree was first the instrument of strife, Where Eve to sin her sonl did prostitute; A tree is now the instrument of life, Though all that trunk, and this fair hody

suit: Ah corsed tree, and yet O hlessed trait! That death to him, this life to usdothgi't: Strange is the cure, when things past cart revive, And the Physician dies, to make his patient live.

Sweet Eden was the arhour of delight, Yet in his honey flow'rs our poison hlew; Sad Gethseman the how'r of haleful night, Where Christ a health of poison for u

drew, Yet all our honey in that poison grew: So we from sweetest flowers could sack

our hane, And Christ from hitter venom could sgsis Extract life out of death, and pleasure oat of pain.

A man was first the anthor of our fall,
A man is now the anthor of our rise;
A garden was the place we perish'd all,
A garden is the place he pays our price:
And the old serpent with a new device,
Hath found a way himself for to heguile:
So he that all men tangled in his wile,
Is now hy one man canght, heguil'd wnh
his own guile.

The dewy night had with her frosty shade
I m mantled all the world, and the suf

Sparkled in ice, only the Lord, that made
All for himself, himself dissolved found,
Sweat without heat, and hled without *

wound: Of heav'n, and earth, and God, and mac


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Yet him, the meek, the merciful, the just,
Upon the cross his rehel people hung,
And mock'd his dying anguish.



For thou didst die for me, oh Son of God! By thee the throhhing flesh of man was

worn; Thy naked feet the thorns of sorrow trod, And tempests heat thy houseless head forlorn. Thou, that wert wont to stand Alone, on God's right hand, Before the Ages were, the Eternal, eldest horn.

Thy hirthright in the world was pain and

grief, Thy love's return ingratitude and hate; The limhs thou healedst hrought thee no

relief, The eyes thou openedst calmly view'd thy

fate: Thou, that wert wont to dwell In peace, tongue cannot tell, Nor heart conceive the hliss of thy celestial


They dragg'd thee to the Roman's solemn

Hall, Where the proud Judge in purple splendour


Thou stoodst a meek and patient criminal,
Thy doom of death from human lips to wait;
Whose throne shall he the world
In final ruin hurl'd,
With all mankind to hear their everlasting

Thou wert alone in that fierce multitude,
When "Crucify him!" yell'd the general

shout; No hand to guard thee mid those insults rude, Nor lip to hless in all that frantic rout; Whose lightest whisper'd word The Seraphim had heard, And adamantine arms from all the heavens hroke out.

They hound thy temples with the twisted thorn,

Thy hruised feet went languid on with pain;

The hlood, from all thy flesh with scourges torn,

Deepen'd thy rohe of mockery's crimson
Whose native restore hright
Was the unapproached light,

The sandal of whose foot the rapid hurricane.

They smote thy cheek with many a ruthless

palm, With the cold spear thy shudd'ringslde they

pierced; The dranght of hitterest gall was all the halm They gave, t' enhance thy unslaked, hurning

thirst: Thou whose words of peace Did pain and anguish cease, And the long huried dead their honds of

slumher hurst.

Low how'd thy head convulsed, and droop'd

in death, Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry;

Slow straggled from thy hreast the parting

hreath, And every limh was wrung with agony. That head, whose veilless hlaze Fill'd angels with amaze, When at that voice sprang forth the rolling suns on high.

And thou wert laid within the narrow tomh,
Thy clay-told limhs with shrouding grave-
clothes hound;
The sealed stone confirm'd thy mortal doom,
Lone watchmen walk'd thy desert hurial-
Whom heaven could not contain,
Nor th' immeasurahle plain
Of vast Infinity inclose or circle round.

For us, for us, thou didst endure the pais.
And thy meek spirit how'd itself to shame,
To wash our souls from sin's infecting stai»,
T' avert the Father's wrathful vengeance

Thou, that conldst nothing win

By saving worlds from sin, Nor anght of glory add to thy aU-glorios;




How sweet, in the musing of faith, to repair

To the garden where Mary delighted to rove; To sit hy the tomh where she hreath'd her fond prayer,

And paid her sad trihute of sorrow and love; To see the hright heam which disperses her fear,

As the Lord of her soul hreaks the hars of his prison, And the voice of the angel salutes her glad ear,—

The Lord is a captive no more—" He is risen!"

O Saviour t as oft as our footsteps we hend

In penitent sadness to weep at thy grave, On the wings of thy greatuess in pity descend,

Be ready to comfort and " mighty to save." We shrink not from scenes of desertion and wo,

If there we may meet with the Lord of our love; Contented, with Mary, to sorrow helow,

If, with her, we may drink of thy fountains ahove.




Ye humhle souls that seek the Lord,

Chase all your fears away;
And how with pleasure down to see,

The place where Jesus lay.

* Thus low the Lord of life was hrought—

Such wonders love can dol Thus cold in death that hosom lay

Which throhh'd and hled for you.

A moment give a loose to grief,

liet grateful sorrows rise; And wash the hloody stains away

With torrents from your eyes.

Then dry your tears, and tune your songs,

The Saviour lives again;
Not all the holts and hars of death

The conqn'ror could detain.

High o'er th' angelic hand he rears

His once dishonour'd head; And through unnumher'd years he reigns

Who dwelt among the dead.

With joy like his shall ev'ry saint

His empty tumh survey:
Then rise with his ascending Lord,

To realms of endless day.



Go to dark Gethsemane,
Ye that feel the tempter's power,
Y'our Redeemer's conflict see,
Watch with him one hitter hour;
Turn not from his griefs away,
Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

Follow to the judgment-hall,
View the Lord of life arraign'd;

O the wormwood and the gall!
O the pangs his soul sustain'd!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss;
Learn of Him to hear the cross.

Calvary's mournful mountain climh;

There, adoring at his feet,

Mark the miracle of Time,

—God's own sacrifice complete,

"It is finish'd ;"—hear Him cry;

Learn of Jesus Christ to die.

Early hasten to the tomh,

Where they laid his hreathless clay;

All is solitude and gloom,

—Who hath taken him away 1

Christ is risen; He meets our eyes;

Saviour, teach us so to rise.


And did he rise? Hear, O ye nations! hear it, O ye dead' He rose, he rose! he hurst the gates of death. Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, And give the King of Glory to come in. Who is the King of Glory? He who slew The rav'nous foe that gorged all human race! The King of Glory he, whose glory fill'd Heav'n with amazement at his love to man, And with divine complacency heheld Pow'rs most illumin'd wilder'd in the theme.

The theme, the joy, how then shall man

sustain 1 Oh, the hurst gates! crush'd sting! demo

lish'd throne! Last gasp of vanqwish'd death. Shout, earth

and heaven, This sum of good to man! whose nature

then Took wing, and mounted with him from the

tomh. Then, then I rose; then first humanity Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, (Stupendous guest 1) and seiz'd eternal

youth, Seiz'd in our name. GrAhaM.

The setting orh of night her level ray
Shed o'er the land, and on the dewy award
The lengthened shadows of the triple cross
Were laid far stretched,—-when in the east

arose Last of the stars, day's harhinger: no sound Was heard, save of the watching soldier's

foot: Within the rock-bound sepulehre, the gloom Of deepest midnight hrooded o'er the dead, The Holy One: hut Io! a radiance faint Began to dawn around his sacred hrow: The linen vesture seemed a suowy wreath, Drifted hy storms into a mountain-cave: Bright, and more hright the circling halo

heamed Upon that face, clothed in a smile henign, Though yet exanimate: Nor long the reign Of death.—The eyes that wept for human

griefs Unclose, and look around with conscious joy. Yes ; with returning life, the first emotion That glowed in Jesus' hreast of love, was

joy At man's redemption, now complete; at

death Disarmed; the grave transformed into the

coach Of faith; the resurrection and the life. Majestical He rose: tremhled the earth; The ponderous gate of stone was rolled away; The keepers fell; the angel, awe-struck,

sunk Into invisihility, while forth The Saviour of the world walked, and stood Before the sepulehre, and viewed the clouds Empurpled glorious hy the rising sun.


Aoain the Lord of life and light

Awakes the kindling ray, Unseals the eyelids of the morn,

And pours increasing day.

O what a night was that which wrapt
The heathen world in gloom I

O what a sun which hroke this day
Trinmphant from the tomh!

The powers of darkness leagued in vain,

To hind our Lord in death; He shook their kingdom when he fell,

By his expiring hreath.

And now his conquering chariot wheels

Ascend the lofty skies:
Broken heneath his powerful cross,

Death's iron sceptre lies.

This day he grateful homage paid,

And loud hosanuas sung;
Let gladness dwell on every heart,

And praise on every tongue.

Ten thousand differing lips shall join

To hail this happy morn; Which scatters hlessings from its wings

On nations yet unhorn.


It happened on a solemn even-tide,
Soon after he who was our Surety died,
Two hosom friends, each pensively inclined.
The scene of all their sorrows left hehind,
Sought their own village, husied as they

went In musings worthy of the great event: They spake of htm they loved, of hirn whose

life Though hlameless had incurred perpetual

strife, Whose deeds had left in spite of hostile arts, A deep memorial graven on their hearts. The recollection, like a vein of ore. The farther traced, euriched them still the

more; They thought him, and they justly thought

him, one Sent to do more than he appeared ts hare

done: To exalt a people, and to place them high Ahove all else, and wondered he should die. Ere yet they hrought their journey to an end, A stranger joined them, courteous as a friend, And asked them with a kind engaging air, What their affliction was, and hegged a share

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