136

C. M.

The crucifixion.

FROM whence these direful omens round,

Which heaven and earth amiaze?

And why 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 borne;
My sins gave sharpness to the nail,
And pointed every 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.

137

Expiring on the cross.

XTENDED on a cursed tree,

EXT

L. M.

Cover'd with dust, and sweat, and blood, See there, the King of glory see!

Sinks and expires the Son of God.

2 Who, who, my Saviour, this hath done!
Who could thy sacred body wound?
No guilt thy spotless heart hath known,-
No guile hath in thy lips been found."
8 I, I alone have done the deed;

Tis I thy sacred flesh have torn;

My sins have caused thee, Lord, to bleed,-
Pointed the nail, and fix'd the thorn.

2 To us our own Barabbas give,-
Away with him,-(they loudly cry :)
Away with him, not fit to live,-
The vile seducer crucify!

3 His sacred limbs they stretch, they tear;
With nails they fasten to the wood;
His sacred limbs, exposed and bare,
Or only cover'd with his blood.

4 Behold his temples, crown'd with thorn;
His bleeding hands, extended wide;
His streaming feet, transfix'd and torn;
The fountain gushing from his side!
50 thou dear suff'ring Son of God,
How doth thy heart to sinners move;
Sprinkle on us thy precious blood,
And melt us with thy dying love.

140

11th P. M. 76, 76, 77, 76.

The mystery of the cross.

YOD of unexampled grace,

G Redeemer of mankind,

Matter of eternal praise
We in thy passion find:
Still our choicest strains we bring;
Still the joyful theme pursue;
Thee the Friend of sinners sing,
Whose love is ever new.

2 Endless scenes of wonder rise,
With that mysterious tree,-
Crucified before our eyes,

Where we the Saviour see: Jesus, Lord, what hast thou done! Publish we the death divine; Stop, and gaze, and fall, and own Was never love like thine!

142

HAR

8th P. M. 87, 87, 47.

It is finished.

ARK! the voice of love and mercy
Sounds aloud from Calvary;

Bee! it rends the rocks asunder,

Shakes the earth, and veils the sky;
It is finish'd:--

Hear the dying Saviour cry.
2 It is finish'd! O what pleasure
Do these precious words afford!
Heavenly blessings, without measure,
Flow to us from Christ the Lord:
It is finish'd :—

Saints, the dying words record.
3 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs;
Join to sing the pleasing theme;
All on earth, and all in heaven,
Join to praise Immanuel's name;
It is finish'd:-

Glory to the bleeding Lamb.

143

His dying cry.

L. M.

TIS finish'd! so the Saviour said, And meekly bow'd his dying head: "Tis finish'd yes, the race is run; The battle fought; the vict'ry won. ? 'Tis finish'd let the joyful sound Be heard the spacious earth around: 'Tis finish'd let the echo fly

Through heaven and hell, through earth and sky,

144

The atonement completed.

TIS finish'd! the Messiah dies,

L. M.

not own;

Accomplish'd is the sacrifice,

The great redeeming work is done.