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'Tis his last agony: The Temple's veil
falls Upon the heaving ground; the son is
dimmed, And darkness shrouds the hody of the Lord.
LOVE OF CHRIST IN HIS SUFFERINGS.
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?
pain, But slowly, and with torments to he slain: O depth without a depth, far hetter seen
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,
The dewy night had with her frosty shade
wound: Of heav'n, and earth, and God, and mac
Yet him, the meek, the merciful, the just,
SUFFERINGS AND DEATH OF
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,
Thou wert alone in that fierce multitude,
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
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
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,
For us, for us, thou didst endure the pais.
Thou, that conldst nothing win
By saving worlds from sin, Nor anght of glory add to thy aU-glorios;
MARY AT THE SEPULCHRE.
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.
ANGEL'S REPLY TO THE WOMEN AT THE SEPULCHRE.
Ye humhle souls that seek the Lord,
Chase all your fears away;
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;
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:
To realms of endless day.
SUFFERINGS, DEATH, AND RESURRECTION OF CHRIST.
Go to dark Gethsemane,
Follow to the judgment-hall,
O the wormwood and the gall!
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
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
O what a sun which hroke this day
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:
Death's iron sceptre lies.
This day he grateful homage paid,
And loud hosanuas sung;
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.
CHRIST ON THE WAY TO EM MACS.
It happened on a solemn even-tide,
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