,

The lowly Jesus sojourned here,
Where'er he went, affliction fled,

And sickness raised her drooping head.
2 The eye that rolled in irksome night

Beheld his face, for he was Light;
The opening ear, the loosened tongue,

His precepts heard, his praises sung.
3 His touch the outcast leper healed ;

His lips the sinner's pardon sealed ;
O’er the cold grave he bowed his head ;

He spake the word, and raised the dead! 177.

“Never man spake like this man.'
OW sweetly flowed the gospel sound

BOWRING

When listening thousands gathered round,

And joy and reverence filled the place!
2 From heaven he came, of heaven he spoke,

To heaven he led his followers' way ;
Dark clouds of gloomy night he broke,

Unvailing an immortal day.
3 “Come, wanderers, to my Father's home;

Come, all ye weary ones, and rest ;"
Yes, sacred Teacher, we will come,

Obey thee, love thee, and be blest.

178.

1 Peter 2 : 19-25.

A. C. Coxe. OW beauteous were the marks divine

H Mate in thy meekness used to shine,

That lit thy lonely pathway, trod

In wondrous love, O Son of God !
2 Oh, who like thee, so calm, so bright,

So pure, so made to live in light?
Oh, who like thee did ever go

So patient through a world of woe?
3 Oh, who like thee so humbly bore

The scorn, the scoffs of men, before ?
So meek, forgiving, godlike, high,

So glorious in humility ?
4 Ev'n death, which sets the prisoner free,

Was pang, and scoff, and scorn, to thee;
Yet love through all thy torture glowed,

And mercy with thy life-blood flowed.
5 Oh, in thy light be mine to go,

Illuming all my way of woe!
And give me ever on the road

To trace thy footsteps, Son of God! 179.

“ Leaving us an example.”
Y

I read my duty in thy word ;
But in thy life the law appears,

Drawn out in living characters.
2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal,

Such deference to thy Father's will,
Such love and meekness so divine,

I would transcribe and make them mine.
3 Cold mountains and the midnight air

Witnessed the fervor of thy prayer:
The desert thy temptations knew,

Thy conflict, and thy victory too.
4 Be thou my pattern; make me bear

More of thy gracious image here:
Then God, the Judge, shall own my name
Among the followers of the Lamb.

WATTS.

MY a ,

OLIVE'S BROW. L. M.

W. B. BRADBURY.

Luke 22 : 39-46.

180,

TAPPAN. "

The star is dimmed that lately shone;
’T is midnight; in the garden now

The suffering Saviour prays alone.
2 'T is midnight; and, from all removed,

The Saviour wrestles lone with fears ;
Ev'n that disciple whom he loved

Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.
3 'T is midnight; and, for others' guilt,

The man of sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet he who hath in anguish knelt

Is not forsaken by his God.
4 'T is midnight ; and from ether-plains

Is borne the song that angels know:
Unheard by mortals are the strains

That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe. 181.

Luke 23: 46-49.
H, come, and mourn with me awhile;

FABER.

Oh, come, together let us mourn;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified !
2 Have we no tears to shed for him,

While soldiers scoff and Jews deride?
Ah ! look how patiently he hangs ;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified !

3 How fast his hands and feet are nailed :

His throat with parching thirst is dried ; His failing eyes are dimmed with blood :

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified ! 4 Seven times he spake, seven words of love ;

And all three hours his silence cried For mercy on the souls of men ;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified ! 182. “ It is finished.” Jobu 19: 30.

IS finished !” -so the Saviour cried,

S. STENNETT.

G

'T is finished !”-yes, the race is run,
The battle fought, the victory won.
2 “ '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.
3 “ 'T is finished !”_let the joyful sound

Be heard through all the nations round;
" ’T is finished !”_let the echo fly

Thro’ heaven and hell, thro' earth and sky. 183.

Gal. 6: 14.
THEN I survey the wondrous cross

WATT

W ,

PASSION CHORALE. 78 & 6s.

BACII.

BERNARD.
J. W. ALEXANDER, Tr.

184.

“Salve, caput cruentatum.” O

SACRED Head, once wounded,

With grief and pain weighed down!
How scornfully surrounded,

With thorns thy only crown;
O Sacred Head, what glory,

What bliss till now was thine !
Yet, though despised and gory,

I joy to call thee mine.
2 What language shall I borrow,

To praise thee, heavenly Friend,
For this, thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end?
Lord ! make me thine forever,

Nor let me faithless prove:
Oh, let me never, never

Abuse such dying love.
3 Be near me when I'm dying,

Oh, show thy cross to me:
And, for my succor flying,

Come, Lord, and set me free:
These eyes, new faith receiving,

From Jesus shall not move ;
For he who dies believing

Dies safely in thy love.