SAVIOUR, through the desert lead us,
Without Thee we cannot go ;
Thou from cruel chains hast freed us,
Thou hast laid the tyrant low:
Let Thy presence
Cheer us all our journey through. 2 When we halt (no track discov'ring), Fearful lest we go astray,
O'er our path Thy pillar hov'ring,
Fire by night, and cloud by day,
Shall direct us;
Thus we shall not miss our way.
3 When we hunger, Thou wilt feed us,
Manna shall our camp surround;
Faint and thirsty, Thou wilt heed us;
Streams shall from the rock abound :
Happy Israel!
What a Saviour Thou hast found!
4 Then lead on, almighty Victor,
Scatter ev'ry hostile band;
Be our guide, and our protector,
Till on Canaan's shore we stand :
Shouts of vict'ry
Then shall fill the promis'd land.
"It is Finished!"
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 finished!"
Hear the dying Saviour cry!
2 Finish'd all the types and shadows
Of the ceremonial law !
Finish'd all that God had promis'd;
Death and hell no more shall awe;
"It is finished!"
Saints, from hence your comfort draw.
3 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,
Join to sing the pleasing theme:
All in earth and all in heaven,
Join to praise Immanuel's name!
Hallelujah!
Glory to the bleeding Lamb.
178. The Three Mountains.
WHEN on Sinai's top I see
God descend in majesty,
To proclaim His holy law,
All my spirit sinks with awe.
2 When in ecstacy sublime,
Tabor's glorious height I climb,
In the too transporting light,
Darkness rushes o'er my sight.
3 When on Calvary I rest,
God in flesh made manifest,
Shines in my Redeemer's face,
Full of beauty, truth, and grace.
4 Here I would for ever stay,
Weep and gaze my soul away;
Thou art heaven on earth to me;
Lovely, mournful Calvary.
179. "It is Finished!"
"TIS finished!" so the Saviour cried,
And meekly bowed His head and died.
"Tis finished!" yes, the race is run,
The battle fought, the victory won.
2 "Tis finished!" all that heaven foretold By prophets in the days of old;
And truths are opened to our view,
That kings and prophets never knew.
3 "'Tis 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.
180. The Way, Truth, and Life.
1 THOU art the Way! by Thee alone
From sin and death we flee;
And those who would the Father seek,
Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee.
2 Thou art the Truth! Thy word alone
True wisdom can impart;
Thou only canst instruct the mind,
And purify the heart.
3 Thou art the Life! the empty tomb
Proclaims Thy conquering arm;
And those who put their trust in Thee,
Nor death nor hell shall harm.
4 Jesus the Way, the Truth, the Life!
Grant us to walk that way,
That truth to keep, that life to live,
Which leads to endless day.
IN the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o'er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.
2 When the woes of life o'ertake me,
Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me,
Lo! it glows with peace and joy.
3 When the sun of bliss is beaming
Light and love upon our way,
From the cross the radiance streaming,
Adds more lustre to the day.
4 Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure,
By the cross are sanctified;
Peace is there that knows no measure,
Joys that through all time abide.
5 In the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o'er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.
Not Ashamed of Christ.
JESUS, and shall it ever be—
A mortal man asham'd of Thee? Asham'd of Thee, whom angels praise, Whose glories shine through endless days.
2 Asham'd of Jesus! sooner far
Let evening blush to own her star;
He sheds the beams of light divine,
O'er this benighted soul of mine.
3 Asham'd of Jesus! just as soon
Let midnight be asham'd of noon :
'Tis midnight with my soul till He,
Bright Morning Star! bid darkness flee.
4 Asham'd of Jesus! that dear friend,
On whom my hopes of heaven depend!
No; when I blush--be this my shame,
That I no more revere His name.
5 Asham'd of Jesus! yes, I may,
When I've no guilt to wash away;
No tear to wipe, no good to crave,
No fears to quell, no soul to save.
6 Till then-nor is my boasting vain;
Till then I'll boast a Saviour slain;
And oh! may this my glory be,
That Christ is not asham'd of me.
|