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NAZARETH. L. M.
"And he healed them." Matt. 4: 24.
WHEN, like a stranger on our sphere,
Where'er he went, affliction fled,
His lips the sinner's pardon sealed;
"Never man spake like this man.'
From lips of gentleness and grace,
2 From heaven he came, of heaven he spoke,
3 "Come, wanderers, to my Father's home;
Obey thee, love thee, and be blest.
1 Peter 2: 19-25.
A. C. COXE.
OW beauteous were the marks divine
H in thy meekness used to shine,
That lit thy lonely pathway, trod
2 Oh, who like thee, so calm, so bright,
3 Oh, who like thee so humbly bore
4 Ev'n death, which sets the prisoner free,
5 Oh, in thy light be mine to go,
Leaving us an example."
Y dear Redeemer, and my Lord,
But in thy life the law appears,
2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal,
I would transcribe and make them mine.
3 Cold mountains and the midnight air
4 Be thou my pattern; make me bear
OLIVE'S BROW. L. M.
Luke 22: 39-46.
W. B. BRAdbury.
and, on Olive's brow,
The star is dimmed that lately shone;
2 'Tis midnight; and, from all removed,
Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.
3 'Tis midnight; and, for others' guilt,
4 'T is midnight; and from ether-plains
That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe.
Luke 23: 46-49.
H, come, and mourn with me awhile;
2 Have we no tears to shed for him,
While soldiers scoff and Jews deride?
3 How fast his hands and feet are nailed:
4 Seven times he spake, seven words of love;
"It is finished." John 19: 30.
TIS finished!"-so the Saviour cried,
2 ""T is finished!"-Son of God, thy power
And yet, our eyes with sorrow see
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.
Gal. 6 14.
WHEN I survey the wondrous cross
Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an offering far too small, Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!
PASSION CHORALE. 7s & 6s.
"Salve, caput cruentatum."
SACRED Head, once wounded,
What bliss till now was thine!
I joy to call thee mine.
2 What language shall I borrow,
3 Be near me when I'm dying,
Come, Lord, and set me free: