It is finished.
John xix, 30.
1 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 finished!" Oh, what pleasure
Do these wondrous words afford!
Heavenly blessings without measure
Flow to us from Christ the Lord.
"It is finish'd!"
Saints! the dying words record. 3 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 finish'd!"
Saints! from hence your comfort draw.
4 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs!
Join to sing the glorious theme:
All on earth, and all in heaven,
Join to praise Immanuel's name.
Hallelujah!
Glory to the bleeding Lamb!
Lam. i, 12. Zech. xii, 10.
1 YE THAT pass by, behold the Man!
The Man of grief, condemn'd for you!
The Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
Weeping, to Calvary pursue.
2 Behold his temples crown'd with thorns,
His bleeding hands extended wide,
His streaming feet transfix'd and torn,
The fountain gushing from his side!
3 Thou dear, Thou suff'ring Son of God,
How doth thy heart to sinners move!
Sprinkle on us thy precious blood,
And melt us with thy dying love.
4[The earth could to her centre quake,
Convuls'd, when her Creator died:
Oh! may our inmost nature shake,
And bow with Jesus crucified!]
5[At thy last gasp the graves display'd
Their horrors to the upper skies:
Oh! that our souls might burst the shade,
And, quicken'd by thy death, arise!]
6 The rocks could feel thy powerful death,
And tremble, and asunder part:
Oh! rend, with thy expiring breath,
The harder marble of our heart!
The fountain opened for sin.
Rev. vii, 14; xv, 2, 3.
1 THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
2 The dying thief rejoic'd to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, as vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.
3 Dear dying Lamb! thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransom'd church of God
Be sav'd to sin no more.
4[E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.
5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing thy power to save;
When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave.]
6[Lord, I believe thou hast prepar'd,
Unworthy though I be,
For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me.
7 "Tis strung, and tun'd for endless years,
And form'd by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears
No other name but thine.]
The cross of Christ.
Rom. xii, 1. Gal. vi, 14.
1 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 off'ring far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
Christ on the cross.
Matt. xxvii, 54. John viii, 28.
1 BOUND upon th' accursed tree,
Faint and bleeding, who is He?
By the flesh with scourges torn,
By the crown of twisted thorn,
By the side so deeply pierc'd,
By the baffled burning thirst,
By the drooping death-dew'd brow,
Son of Man! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!
2 Bound upon th' accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?
By the sun at noon-day pale,
Shiv'ring rocks, and rending veil,
Eden promis'd ere He died
To the felon at his side,
Lord! our suppliant knees we bow;
Son of God! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!
3 Bound upon th' accursed tree,
Sad and dying, who is He?
By the last and bitter cry,
Life resign'd in agony,
By the mourners come to weep
Where the bones of Jesus sleep,
Crucified! we know Thee now;
Son of Man! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!
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