IS midnight; and, on Olive's brow,
The star is dimmed that lately shone;
"T is midnight; in the garden now
The suffering Saviour prays alone.
2 'Tis 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 'Tis 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.
H, come, and mourn with me awhile;
Oh, come ye to the Saviour's side;
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!
"It is finished." John 19: 30.
IS finished!"-so the Saviour cried,
And meekly bowed his head, and died :
""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.
WHEN I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ, my God:
All the vain things that charm me most-
I sacrifice them to his blood.
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,
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.
"Follow his steps." 1 Pet. 2: 21. MONTGOMERY.
O to dark Gethsemane,
Ye that feel the tempter's power!
Your Redeemer's conflict see,
Watch with him one bitter hour;
Turn not from his griefs away,
Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.
2 Follow to the judgment-hall,
View the Lord of life arraigned;
Oh, the wormwood and the gall!
Oh, the pangs his soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss;
Learn of him to bear the cross.
3 Calvary's mournful mountain climb;
There, adoring at his feet,
Mark that miracle of time,
God's own sacrifice complete :
"It is finished," hear him cry ;
Learn of Jesus Christ to die.
4 Early hasten to the tomb
Where they laid his breathless clay :
All is solitude and gloom ;—
Who hath taken him away?
Christ is risen! he meets our eyes:
Saviour, teach us so to rise.
OW calm and beautiful the morn
That gilds the sacred tomb,
Where once the Crucified was borne,
And veiled in midnight gloom!
Oh, weep no more the Saviour slain,
The Lord is risen-he lives again!
2 Ye mourning saints, dry every tear
For your departed Lord,
"Behold the place, he is not here!”
The tomb is all unbarred;
The gates of death were closed in vain,
The Lord is risen-he lives again.
3 Now cheerful to the house of
Your early footsteps bend ;
The Saviour will himself be there,
Your Advocate and Friend;
Oh, weep no more your comforts slain,
The Lord is risen-he lives again!
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