2 By thine agonizing pain,
And bloody sweat, we pray-
By thy dying love to man,
Take all our sins away:
Burst our bonds, and set us free,
From all sin do thou release;
Oh, remember Calvary,
Ánd bid us go in peace!
3 Let thy blood, by faith applied,
The sinner's pardon seal;
Own us freely justified,
And all our sickness heal:
By thy passion on the tree,
Let our griefs and troubles cease;
Oh, remember Calvary,
And bid us go in peace!
1 HERE, O my Lord, I see thee face to face;
Here would I touch and handle things unseen;
Here grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace,
And all my weariness upon thee lean.
2 Here would I feed upon the bread of God;
Here drink with thee the royal wine of heaven;
Here would I lay aside each earthly load,
Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.
3 Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the love, is passed and gone; The bread and wine remove, but thou art here— Nearer than ever-still my Shield and Sun.
4 Feast after feast thus comes and passes by;
Yet, passing, points to the glad feast above,Giving sweet foretaste of the festal joy,
The Lamb's great bridal feast of bliss and love.
1 FORGET thyself! Christ bade thee come
To think upon his love,
Which could reverse the sinner's doom,
And write his name above;
Bid the returning rebel live,
And freely all his sins forgive.
2 Forget thyself! and think what pain,
What agony he bore,
To wash away each guilty stain,
To bless thee evermore:
To fit thee for his high abode,
The temple of the living God.
3 Forget thyself! but let thy soul
With memories o'erflow,
Rejoice in his supreme control,
And seek his will to know:
With thankful heart approach the feast,
And thou wilt be a welcome guest.
1 DEAR Lord, amid the throng that pressed
Around thee on the cursed tree,
Some loyal, loving hearts were there,
Some pitying eyes that wept for thee.
2 Like them may we rejoice to own
Our dying Lord, though crowned with
thorn;
Like thee, thy blesséd self, endure
The cross with all its cruel scorn.
3 Thy cross, thy lonely path below,
Show what thy brethren all should be;
Pilgrims on earth, disowned by those
Who see no beauty, Lord, in thee.
1 O GARDEN of Olives, thou dear honored spot, The fame of thy wonders shall ne'er be forgot; The theme most transporting to seraphs above; The triumph of sorrow,-the triumph of love! 2 Come, saints, and adore him; come, bow at his feet Oh, give him the glory, the praise that is meet: Let joyful hosannas unceasing arise,
And join the full chorus that gladdens the skies!
1 WHEN We, our wearied limbs to rest,
Sat down by proud Euphrates' stream,
We wept, with doleful thoughts oppressed,
And Zion was our mournful theme.
2 Our harps that, when with joy we sung,
Were wont their tuneful parts to bear,
With silent strings neglected hung
On willow trees that withered there.
3 How shall we tune our voice to sing,
Or touch our harps with skillful hands?
Shall hymns of joy, to God our King,
Be sung by slaves in foreign lands?
4 O Salem! our once happy seat,-
When I of thee forgetful prove,
Let then my trembling hand forget
The tuneful strings with art to move.
1 GREAT Shepherd of thine Israel,
Who didst between the cherubs dwell,
And lead the tribes, thy chosen sheep,
Safe through the desert and the deep!
2 Thy church is in the desert now:
Shine from on high, and guide us through;
Turn us to thee, thy love restore:
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.
3 Hast thou not planted with thy hand
A lovely vine in this our land?
Did not thy power defend it round,
And heavenly dew enrich the ground?
4 How did the spreading branches shoot,
And bless the nations with their fruit?
But now, O Lord, look down and see
Thy mourning vine, that lovely tree.
5 Return, almighty God, return,
Nor let thy bleeding vineyard mourn:
Turn us to thee, thy love restore,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.
1 WHY, on the bending willows hung,
Israel! still sleeps thy tuneful string?—
Still mute remains thy sullen tongue,
And Zion's song denies to sing?
2 Awake! thy sweetest raptures raise!
Let harp and voice unite their strains :
Thy promised King his sceptre sways;
Jesus, thine own Messiah, reigns!
3 No taunting foes the song require;
No strangers mock thy captive chain;
But friends provoke the silent lyre,
And brethren ask the holy strain.
4 Nor fear thy Salem's hill to wrong,
If other lands thy triumph share:
A heavenly city claims thy song;
A brighter Salem rises there.
5 By foreign streams no longer roam;
Nor, weeping, think of Jordan's flood:
In every clime behold a home,
In every temple see thy God.
1 GOD is the refuge of his saints,
When storms of sharp distress invade;
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold him present with his aid.
2 Let mountains from their seats be hurled
Down to the deep, and buried there,
Convulsions shake the solid world-
Our faith shall never yield to fear.
3 Loud may the troubled ocean roar;
In sacred peace our souls abide;
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.
4 There is a stream whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our God,
Life, love, and joy, still gliding through,
And watering our divine abode.
5 That sacred stream, thine holy word,
Our grief allays, our fear controls;
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls.
6 Zion enjoys her Monarch's love,
Secure against a threatening hour;
Nor can her firm foundation move,
Built on his truth, and armed with power.
1 BEHOLD the expected time draw near,
The shades disperse, the dawn appear
Behold the wilderness assume
The beauteous tints of Eden's bloom!
2 Events with prophecies conspire,
To raise our faith, our zeal to fire:
The ripening fields, already white,
Present a harvest to the sight.
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