Then roll'd the stone, and all ador'd
The rising Lord, with joys unknown.
And when array'd in light
The shining Conqu'ror rode,
Ye hail'd his glorious flight
Up to the throne of God,
And wav'd around your golden wings,
And struck your strings of sweetest sound.
Ye saints the theme pursue,
And raise your noblest song;
All praise, and glory too,
To Christ the Lord belong;
For you he bled and rose again,
And still shall reign, your living Head.
C. M. Angels ministering to Christ.
1 BEYOND the glittʼring starry sky
Which God's right hand sustains,
There, in the boundless realms of light,
Our great Redeemer reigns.
2 Legions of angels, strong and fair,
In countless armies shine
At his right hand, with golden harps
To offer songs divine.
3 "Hail, Prince!" they cry, "for ever hail, "Whose unexampled love
"Mov'd thee to quit these blissful realms, "And royalties above!"
4 While from the sons of men on earth
He suffer'd rude disdain,
They laid their honours at his feet,
And waited in his train.
5 Through all his travels here below
They did his steps attend;
Oft gaz'd, and wonder'd where, at length,
This wondrous scene would end.
6 They saw him break the bars of death,
Which none e'er broke before;
And rise in conqu'ring majesty,
To reign for evermore.
7 They brought his chariot from above,
To bear him to his throne;
And with triumphant voices cried,
"The glorious work is done!"
PROCLAIM the lofty praise
Of him who once was slain,
But now is ris'n, through endless days
To live and reign.
He lives and reigns on high,
Who bought us with his blood;
Enthron'd above the farthest sky
Our Saviour God.
The Son of God adore;
Ye ransom'd, spread his fame;
With joy and gladness, evermore
Laud his great name.
Let ev'ry tongue confess
That Jesus Christ is Lord;
And ev'ry creature join to bless
Th' incarnate Word,
All honour, pow'r, and praise,
To Jesus' name belong;
With hosts seraphic, glad, we raise
"Worthy the Lamb," they cry, "That on the cross was slain; "But now, ascended up on high, "He lives to reign."
4 He lives, to bless and save
The souls redeem'd by grace,
And rescue from the dreary grave
His chosen race;
And soon we hope, above,
A louder strain to sing;
With all our pow'rs to praise and love
Our Saviour King.
8.7.7. Praise becomes the saved.
1 LET us sing, for we have reason,
Let us join with those above;
Praise is never out of season;
Let us praise the God of love:
We have cause indeed to sing,
Jesus is our glorious King.
2 He whom angels view with wonder,
He whom angels always sing;
He who wields the awful thunder,
Is himself our glorious King.
O! how bless'd his people are!
Bless'd who in his glory share.
3 When we reach the full enjoyment
Of the state where sorrows end,
Praise will be our sweet employment,
We shall praise the sinner's Friend;
Him who wash'd us with his blood,
Sav'd, and brought us nigh to God.
4 But how diff'rent then our praises
From the thanks we render now!
Well our coldness may amaze us,
When we think how much we owe;
But no coldness will remain,
When that glorious state we gain.
5 Yet our Lord accepts our praises
Offer'd while we sojourn here;
While the ocean round us rolls,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide us, O our Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
O receive our souls at last.
2 Other refuge have we none,
All our hopes depend on thee;
Leave, ah! leave us not alone,
Still our strength and comfort be.
All our trust on thee is stay'd,
All our help from thee we bring:
Cover each defenceless head,
With the shadow of thy wing.
3 Thou, O Christ, art all we want,
Ev'ry good in thee we find:
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is thy name,
We are all unrighteousness;
We are full of sin and shame,
Thou art full of truth and grace.
4 Plenteous grace with thee is found,
Grace to pardon all our sim:
Let the healing streams abound,
Make and keep us pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let us take of thee;
Spring thou up in ev'ry heart,
Rise to all eternity.
L. M. The Hiding place. Psa. xxxii. 7. Isa. xxxii. 2.
1 HAIL, SOV'reign love! that first began
The scheme to rescue fallen man ;
Praise, to that free, eternal grace,
Which gave to us a "hiding-place."
2 Against the God who rules the sky,
We sinn'd with hands uplifted high;
Expos'd to wrath we stood, a race
Undone without a "hiding-place."
3 When first our guilt and need we saw,
We fled for safety to the law;
But there our trembling souls could trace
No semblance of a "hiding-place."
4 Sinai's dread thunders round us roll'd,
And threaten'd us with woes untold;
Till in the Saviour's righteousness
At length we found a hiding-place."
5 On him secure our hearts rely;
When God in judgment passes by,
He owns his well-beloved's face,
And spares us in our "hiding-place."
6 Arise, ye saints, and grateful sing;
To Christ your noblest tribute bring;
Extol the glories of his grace,
Who made himself your "hiding-place."
128.
112th. Christ all in all. Col. iii. 11.
1 JESUS! thou source of calm repose,
All fulness dwells in thee, divine;
Our strength to quell the proudest foes,
Our light-in deepest gloom to shine;
Thou art our fortress, strength, and tow'r,
Our trust, and portion evermore.
2 Jesus, our comforter thou art,
Our rest in toil, our ease in pain;
The balm to heal each broken heart,
In storms our peace, in loss our gain;
Our joy beneath the worldling's frown,
In shame our glory and our crown.
3 In want, our plentiful supply;
In weakness, our almighty pow'r;
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