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4 Bound upon the accursed tree,

Dread and awful, who is he?
By the prayer for them that slew,
“ Lord ! they know not what they do ;”
By the spoiled and empty grave,
By the power from death to save,
Risen Lord ! we know thee now;
Son of God! 't is Thou! 't is Thou !

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1 Despised is the Man of Grief,

Rejected and denied belief,
By them whose sorrows he hath borne,
For whose transgression he is torn,
Whose mortal weakness he hath worn.

2 We all, like sheep, have gone astray,

And turned aside from wisdom's way; The Son of Man, the Son of God, Hath humbly kissed affliction's rod, To lead our stricken souls to God.

3 O let us cast each vice away,

Which thus the Son of God could slay !
With contrite heart and weeping eye,
Behold the Saviour's cross on high,
And every sin and folly fly!

78 M.

187.
1 Angell roll the rock away;

Death! yield up thy mighty prey;
See the Saviour, from the tomb

Rising in immortal bloom.
2 Mortals ! raise the rapturous song;

Let the strains be sweet and strong,
Hail the Son of God, this morn

From his sepulchre new-born.
3 Powers of heaven, seraphic choirs !

Sing, and sweep your sounding lyres;
Sons of men ! in humble strain,

Sing your mighty Saviour's reign. 4 Every note with wonder swell;

Sin o’erthrown, and captive hell!
Where, O death, is now thy sting ?
Where thy terrors, vanquished king?

P. M.

188.
1 Lift your glad voices in triumph on high,

For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot die.
Vain were the terrors that gathered around him,
And short the dominion of death and the grave;
He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound

him,
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save.
Loud was the chorus of angels on high,
The Saviour hath risen, and man shall not die.

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2 Glory to God, in full anthems of joy!

The being he gave us death cannot destroy.
Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow,
If tears were our birthright, and death were our

end;
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend.
Lift then your voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die.

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1 Morning breaks upon the tomb;

Jesus dissipates its gloom;
Day of triumph through the skies,

See the glorious Saviour rise!
2 Christians, dry your flowing tears;

Chase those unbelieving fears;
Look on his deserted grave;

Doubt no more his power to save. 3 Ye who are of death afraid,

Triumph in the scattered shade;
Drive your anxious fears away;

See the place where Jesus lay. 4 So the rising sun appears,

Shedding radiance o'er the spheres;
So returning beams of light
Chase the terrors of the night.

C. M.

190.
1 On the first Christian sabbath-eve,

When his disciples met,
O'er his lost fellowship to grieve,

Nor knew the Scriptures yet;—
2 Lo! in their midst his form was seen,

The form in which he died;
Their Master's marred and wounded mien,

His hands, his feet, his side.
3 Then were they glad their Lord to know,

And hailed him, yet with fear : Jesus! again thy presence show;

Meet Thy disciples here:
4 Be in our midst ! let faith rejoice

Our risen Lord to view,
And make our spirits hear thy voice

Say—“Peace be unto you!”
5 While with thee, in these sacred hours,

We commune through thy word,
May our hearts burn, and all our powers

Confess,—“It is the Lord !”

)

191.

78 M. 1 Go 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;
O the wormwood and the gall!
O 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, submissive at his feet,
Mark that miracle of time,
Love's own sacrifice complete :
“ It is finished!”— hear the 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 seeks the skies:
Saviour! teach us so to rise !

192. C. M. 1 O mean may seem this house of clay,

Yet 't was the Lord's abode;
Our feet may mourn this thorny way,

Yet here Emmanuel trod.
2 This fleshly robe the Lord did wear,

This watch the Lord did keep,
These burdens sore the Lord did bear,

These tears the Lord did weep.

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