FOR ever here my rest shall be,
Close to Thy wounded side;
This all my hope, and all my plea,
For me the Saviour died.

My dying Saviour and my God,
Fountain for guilt and sin,
Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood,

And cleanse and keep me clean.

Wash me and make me thus Thine own,
Wash me and mine Thou art;
Wash me, but not my feet alone,
My hands, my head, my heart.

The atonement of Thy blood apply,
Till faith to sight improve,

Till hope in full fruition die,
And all my soul be love.

70.

Amen.

S. M.

Nor all the blood of beasts

On Jewish altars slain,

Could give the guilty conscience peace,

Or wash away its stain.

But Christ, the Heavenly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away;

A sacrifice of nobler name,

And richer blood than they.

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

Believing, we rejoice

To see the curse remove;

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

71.

8-7, 8-7, 4-7.

ALLELUIA! best and sweetest

Of the hymns of praise above!
Alleluia! thou repeatest,
Angel-host, these notes of love!
This ye utter

While your golden harps ye move.

Alleluia! church victorious,
Join the concert of the sky!
Alleluia! bright and glorious,
Lift ye saints the strain on high!
We poor exiles

Join not yet your melody.

Alleluia! strains of gladness

Suit not souls with anguish torn ;
Alleluia! sounds of sadness

Best become our state forlorn;
Our offences

We with bitter tears must mourn.

But our earnest supplication,
Holy God, we raise to Thee
Visit us with Thy salvation,
Make us all Thy joys to see.
Alleluia!

Ours at length the strain shall be.

72.

L. M.

Amen.

WE sing the praise of Him Who died,
Of Him Who died upon the Cross;
The sinner's hope let men deride,
For this we count the world but loss.

Inscribed upon the Cross we see
In shining letters, "God is Love;"
He bears our sins upon the tree,
He brings us mercy from above.

The Cross! it takes our guilt away,
It holds the fainting spirit up,
It cheers with hope the gloomy day,
And sweetens every bitter cup.

It makes the coward spirit brave,
And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
It takes its terror from the grave,
And gilds the bed of death with light.

The balm of life, the cure of woe,
The measure and the pledge of love,

The sinner's refuge here below,
The angels' theme in heaven above.

To Christ, Who won for sinners grace
By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
For ever and for ever more.

Amen.

Week before Easter.

73.

RIDE on! ride on in majesty!

L. M.

Hark! all the tribes Hosanna cry ;
O Saviour meek, pursue Thy road,
With palms and scattered garments strewed.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!

In lowly pomp, ride on to die;

O Christ, Thy triumphs now begin,

O'er captive death and conquered sin.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
The angel armies of the skies,
Look down with sad and wondering eyes
To see the approaching sacrifice.

Ride on ride on in majesty!
The last and fiercest strife is nigh,
The Father on His sapphire Throne
Awaits His own anointed Son.

Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp, ride on to die:

Bow Thy meek Head to mortal pain,
Then take, O God, Thy Power, and reign.

ALL glory, laud, and honour
To Thee, Redeemer, King!
To Whom the lips of children
Made sweet Hosannas ring.
All glory, &c.

Thou art the King of Israel,
Thou David's Royal Son,
Who in the Lord's Name comest,
The King and Blessed One.
All glory, &c.

The company of Angels

Are praising Thee on high,
And mortal men, and all things
Created make reply.
All glory, &c,

The people of the Hebrews

With palms before Thee went,

Amen.