One drop of this can truly cheer, And heal the wounded soul; What multitude of broken hearts This living stream makes whole! Around the glorious throne ? Sounds in the sweetest tone! The elders there cast down their crowns, And all both night and day Sing praise to him who shed his blood, And wash'd their guilt away. And this, while here, we will proclaim, Cheerful in our degree, That thro' the blood of God's dear Lamb Each soul may happy be. But thou, O Lord! make ev'ry day Thy grace to us more sweet; 'Till we behold thy wounded side, And worship at thy feet. 64. Sufferings of Christ. Let me dwell on Golgotha, That dear blood, for sinners spilt Hark! his dying word, Forgive, • Father, let the sinner live; « Sioner, wipe thy tears away, • I thy ransom freely pay.' While I hear this grace reveal'd, Farewel, world, thy gold is dross, He has dearly bought my soul ; 65. Christ our Sacrifice. But Christ the heav'nly Lamb, Not all the blood of beasts On Jewish altars slain, Could give the guilty conscience peace, Or wash away the stain. Takes all our sins away ; A sacritice of pobler Dame, 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. My soul looks back to see The burdens thou didst bear And hopes her guilt was there. To see the curse remove; And sing his bleeding love. 66. Invitation to the Lord's Table. This is the feast of heav'nly wine, And God invites to sup; The juices of the living vine Were press’d to fill the cup. Oh bless the Saviour, ye that eat, With royal dainties fed; For Jesus is the bread. The vile, the lost, he calls to them, Ye trembling souls appear! Have no acceptance here. The banquet spread for you; Dear Saviour, this is welcome news, Then I may venture too. And may obtain a place, And I shall see his face. 67. The Death of Christ. That doleful night before his death The Lamb for sinners slain, This solemn feast ordain. And to remember thee: Hal. Thy sụff'rings Lord, each sacred sign To our remembrance brings; But think on nobler things. Each heart that pants to thee, • The Lamb that died for me,' Hallelujah. 68. Christ's Sufferings. THROUGHOUT the Saviour's life we trace Nothing but shame and deep disgrace, No period else is seen: Caus'd by the creatures' sin. For this I him adore : Thro ev'ry open d pore. Till one the bones might see; way with blood and tear, Press'd by the heavy tree, Thus up the hill he painful came, Round him they mock, and make their game; At length his cross they rear: Without one thankful tear What tongue his griefs can tell ? |