43 FROM lowest depths of woe

To God I send my cry;
Lord, hear my supplicating voice,
And graciously reply.

2 My soul with patience waits
For Thee, the living Lord;
My hopes are on Thy promise built,
Thy never failing word.

3 My longing eyes look out
For Thy enliv'ning ray,

More earnestly than those who wait
To catch the dawn of day.

4 Let Israel trust in God,

No bounds his mercy knows;

The plenteous source and spring from whence
Eternal succour flows.

44 MY soul lies cleaving to the dust:
Lord, give me life divine:

From vain desires and every lust
Turn off these eyes of mine!

2 I need the influence of Thy grace,
To speed me in Thy way,
Lest I should loiter in my race,
Or turn my feet astray.

3 Are not Thy mercies sov'reign still,
And Thou a faithful God?

Wilt Thou not grant me warmer zeal,
To run the heavenly road?

4 Then shall I love Thy Gospel more,
And ne'er forget Thy word,
When I have felt its quick'ning power
To draw me near the Lord.

45 WHEN all around is dark and drear,
No hand to help, no voice to cheer;
When, of each human stay bereft,
Alone my trembling soul is left;
2 Whither, ah, whither shall I flee,
Saviour of sinners, but to Thee?
My mournful cry Thou'lt not despise,
By suff'rings taught to sympathize.
3 O break the power of sin and hell,
The stern rebuke of conscience quell,
And, by Thy Spirit's quick'ning voice,
My pardon speak, and say, Rejoice.
4 Bright hour, when on a soul forlorn
Serenely beams the Gospel morn,
And all its terrors melt away,
Like clouds before the springing day!

GOOD FRIDAY.

46 JESUS, to Thy wounds I fly;
Purge my sins of deepest dye :
Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
Wash away my crimson stain,
Plunge me in the sacred flood,
In the fountain of Thy blood;
Then Thy Father's eye shall see
Not one spot of guilt in me.

47 STRICKEN, smitten, and afflicted,
See Him dying on the tree;
'Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, 'tis He! 'tis He!

2 Come, my soul, look here, and wonder:
Here's a sight to cause surprise;
Well the rocks may cleave asunder;
Well may darkness veil the skies:

3 Jesus died in love to others:

Greater love has none than this:
Love of kindred, love of mothers,
Feeble are compar'd with his.

4 Here we have a firm foundation:
Here, the refuge for the lost;
Jesus bought for us salvation :
His own blood the price it cost.

48 YES, we will mourn: for us he died:

Jesus for us was crucified:
For us, sustain'd sin's heavy load,
And shed his own most precious blood!
For us, the bitter death endur'd;
For us, eternal life procur'd.

2 Yes, we will love but who can know,
What tongue, or pen, can fully show,
The depth beneath, and height above,
Of suff'ring, and redeeming love?
Us by his bitter death to save,
Himself-his life-his blood-He gave.

49 NOT all the blood of beasts,

On Jewish altars slain,

Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away the stain.

2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away;
A sacrifice of nobler name,
And richer blood than they.

3

My faith would lay her hand
On that dear head of thine,
While like a penitent I stand,
And there confess my sin.

4 My soul looks back to see
The burden Thou didst bear,
When hanging on th' accursed tree,
And hopes her guilt was there.

5

Believing, we rejoice

To see the curse remove;

We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,
And sing his bleeding love.

50 MAY I love Thee and adore Thee,
O Thou bleeding, dying Lamb:
Teach my heart to bend before Thee,
Kindle there a sacred flame.

2 Teach me what I am by nature,
How to lift my thoughts on high :
Teach me, O Thou great Creator,
How to live and how to die.

51 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 a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so Divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

52 HARK! the voice of love and mercy

Sounds aloud from Calvary;

See, 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 triumph Do these joyful words afford! Heavenly blessings without measure Flow to us from Christ the Lord. "It is finish'd!"

Saints, his dying words record.