wrong ht, Breathe forth the cry thy lips have taught: Thy kingdom come! let every knee Bow down and own thy majesty.
Thy kingdom come.
Matt. vi. 10.
Why will ye die?
Ezek. xviii. 31.
687
L. M. 6 1., 688
L. M. 6 1.
Thy kingdom come! From year to Ruler of heaven and earth and hell,
year
Thy waiting church uplift their
Who dare against thy power rebel?
prayer;
They in whose hearts thy grace has wrought Or disobey the heavenly King,
Breathe forth the cry thy lips have taught: Before whose face the angels sing?
Thy kingdom come! let every knee O sinner, from transgression turn,
Bow down and own thy majesty. Before His wrath against thee burn.
Thy will in earth like heaven be done; O ye who in rebellion strong,
O'er every foe be victory won;
Have fought against God's love so long,
Till earth and heaven again shall be He doth to you his call extend;
One with each other, and with thee: Oh, come and seek the sinner's Friend.
Our Father, let thy kingdom come! For you he bore the cross of pain,
Thy will in earth like heaven be done. Say, shall his blood be shed in vain?
Where once beneath wrath's gathering cloud, Ye weary, heavy-laden, all,
Thy sacred head in anguish bowed; In Christ's own stead on you I call,
Where thou didst bear thy cross in pain, Oh, hear his message from on high;
Oh, come in glorious might to reign: "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?
Rejoice, O earth, and hail your King! To you I peace and pardon give."
Ye morning stars, together sing! O sinner, look to Christ and live!
Thy Kingdom come! from day to day, We come, O gracious Lord, we come,
Thy loyal church shall ever pray; From all our wand'rings hastening home;
And wait the hour in joyful hope And joy throughout the courts above,
When angel hands shall bear them up Shall tell the fullness of thy love.
Thy bliss to share, thy glory see, Hark! how the shouts of triumph sound!
And reign o'er all the earth with Thee. The dead's alive, the lost is found.
H., 1880.
The Love of Christ Which Passeth Knowledgę. 689-662
689 Blessed are they that have not seen. L. M. 6 l.
We saw thee not when thou didst come
To this poor world of sin and death,
Nor e'er beheld thy cottage home
In that despised Nazareth;
But we believe thy footsteps trod
Its streets and plains, thou Son of God.
We did not see thee lifted high
Amid that wild and savage crew,
Nor hear thy meek, imploring cry,
"Forgive! they know not what they do:"
Yet we believe the deed was done
Which shook the earth and veiled the sun.
We stood not by the empty tomb,
Where, Lord, thy sacred body lay,
Nor sat within that upper room,
Nor met thee in the open way:
But we believe that angels said,
"Why seek the living with the dead?"
We did not mark the chosen few,
When thou didst through the clouds ascend,
First lift to heaven their wondering view,
Then to the earth all prostrate bend:
Yet we believe that mortal eyes
Beheld that journey to the skies.
We see thee not enthroned in heaven
At God's right hand, for us to plead;
But thou the Comforter hast given
Within our hearts to intercede;
And we believe that thou wilt come
And take thy waiting people home.
Arr. J. Buckoll, 1838. J.H. Gurney, 1851. ver. 5., H., 1882.
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High on a throne of radiant light,
Above dominion power and might,
There sits a man, of woman born,
Who once was scourged and crowned with thorn;
While sounds thro' heav'n the word supreme,
"Let all the angels worship Him!
To Him all angels cry aloud,
And tell his glory all abroad;
And seraphim with radiant wing,
Before him "Holy, Holy," sing;
And all heaven's shining myriads fall,
And crown him, King and Lord of all.
We too, the angel choir would join,
And praise and laud the King divine;
Monarchs of earth and people all,
Princes and judges, great and small,
Ye youths and maidens, old and young,
Praise ye the Lord with heart and tongue.
All, all above and all beneath,
The hosts of hell and powers of death,
Yea, he who bore sin's venomed sting,
Acknowledge him, and hail him King.
By all confessed, by all adored,
The universe proclaims him Lord.
Let all who breathe the vital air,
Unite God's glory to declare,
Let babes and sucklings sing his praise,
Prophets and saints their voices raise;
Let all beneath and all above,
Give praise to God, the God of love.
Peace be unto you. John xx. 19.
Are They not all Ministering Spirits.
1. Clip from the brow one sun-ny tress, One curl that deck'd the little head;
Give the cold clay one last ca- ress, Weep, mother, weep, thy child is
And she answered, It is well. 2 Kings, iv. 26.
693 2 Yet stay the anguish of thy heart, Nor of thy grief with murmuring tell; What tho' thy hopes like dreams depart? Still faith confesses, "It is well.” 3 Take off the little shoes, half worn In thorny paths and rugged ways: Lay off the garments soiled and torn; Lay down the cares of many days. 4 No more thine eyes with sorrows dim, Shall watch those wayward little feet; But angels bright and cherubim Shall guide them up the golden street. 5 Safe on that distant, shining shore, Where the long parted ones shall meet, And meeting once shall part no moreThere thou the lov'd and lost shall greet.
I pray thee open his eyes. 2 Kings vi. 17.
695
Oh, for a prayer like his of old,
That ope'd his servant's doubting eye,
To bid our raptured gaze behold
The flaming chariots of the sky!
Or for a dream like his who slept
At Bethel's Gate, the House of God,
While angels' feet descending stept,
And round his lonely pillow trod.
Or that deep hour of kindling night,
When moonbeam fail'd and stars grew dim,
As thronged seraphic forms of light
To peal the Saviour's natal hymn.
In cherub hands the flaming sword
Those hosts who sang th' incarnate Lord,
Round life's fair tree no longer moves;
Now serve the meanest soul he loves.
Where'er salvation's boon is given,
For such their zealous bosoms burn;
And sinless beings joy in heaven
When worms like us to Jesus turn.
To that unnumbered, glorious throng,
Thro' life's short pilgrimage we come;
They hover round our path, and long
To come and bear us to our home.
Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna, 1790-1846.
They Rest from Gheiq Labors.
They shall rest in their beds.
Isa. lvii. 2.
696
Go to thy rest, with sorrows worn,
With burdens bow'd, with woes opprest;|
By storms and tempests tost and torn,
All now is calm; go to thy rest.
Go to thy rest; thy pains are past;
Thy groans, and sighs, and tears are o'er;
Thy soft repose has come at last;
Go rest in hope, and weep no more.
Go to thy rest; in Jesus sleep,
With heaven's own blessing on thee shed;
For thee we have no tears to weep;
Rest with the holy, blessed dead.
Go to thy rest; thy Lord shall come,
And vanquish'd death shall lose his sting;
Then, rising from the rending tomb,
Behold thy God, and wake and sing.
Go to thy slumbers; close thine eyes;
This brief repose no terror brings;
Thy Sun of Righteousness shall rise
On thee, with healing in his wings.
Behold the man.
John xix. 5.
Ye that pass by, behold the Man,
The Man of Griefs condemned for you!
The Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
Weeping to Calvary pursue.
Adored by angels, mocked by men,
Speechless, the form of guilt He wears;
Reviled he answers not again
But meekly all their insult bears.
“To us our own Barabbas give!
Away with Him," they loudly cry,
"Away with him, not fit to live,
The vile seducer crucify!"
See there his temples crowned with thorn,
His bleeding hands extended wide,
His streaming feet transfixed and torn,
The fountain gushing from his side.
Beneath my load he faints and dies;
I filled his soul with pangs unknown:
I caused those mortal groans and cries,
I killed the Father's only Son!
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O thou dear, suffering Son of God,
How doth thy heart to sinners move?
L. M. Help us to catch thy precious blood;
Help me to taste thy dying love.
Give me to feel thy agonies;
One drop of thy sad cup afford:
I fain with thee would sympathize,
And share the sufferings of my Lord.
The earth could to her centre quake,
Convulsed, while her Creator died:
Oh, let mine inmost nature shake,
And die with Jesus crucified!
At thy last gasp the graves displayed
Their horrors to the upper skies:
Oh, that my soul might burst the shado,
And, quickened by thy death, arise!
The rocks could feel thy powerful death,
And tremble, and asunder part:
Oh, rend, with thy expiring breath,
The harder marble of my heart!
The grace I surely shall receive;
Thy death hath bought the grace for me:
This is my whole desire, to live,
To live, and then to die in thee.
Deem not that they are blest alone
Whose days a peaceful tenor keep;
The anointed Son of God makes known
A blessing for the eyes that weep.
The light of smiles shall fill again
The lids that overflow with tears;
And hours of woe and pain
weary
Are promises of happier years.
There is a day of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night;
And grief may bide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light.
Nor let the good man's trust depart,
Though life its common gifts deny,
Tho' with a pierced and broken heart,
And spurned of men, he goes to die.
For God has marked each sorrowing day,
And numbered every secret tear;
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
For all his children suffer here.
William Cullen Bryant, ab. 1794-1879.
Charles Wesley, ab. 1742.
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