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A rebel 'midst the thunders of His throne ! Nor I alone-a rebel universe ! My species up in arms, not one exempt ! Yet for the foulest of the foul He dies ! Most joy’d for the redeem'd from deepest guilt ! Bound ev'ry heart ; and ev'ry bosom burnO what a scale of miracles is here! Its lowest round high planted in the skies : Its tow'ring summit lost beyond the thought Of man or angel! O that I could climb The wonderful ascent with equal praise ! Praise ! flow for ever (if astonishment Will give thee leave) my praise, for ever flow ; Praise, ardent, cordial, constant, to high heav'n, More fragrant than Arabia sacrificed, And all her spicy mountains in a flame.


Plung'd in a gulph of dark despair,

We wretched sinners lay,
Without one cheerful beam of hope,

Or spark of glimmering day.

With pitying eyes the Prince of Peace

Beheld our helpless grief ;
He saw, and (Oh, amazing love !)

He came to our relief.

Down from the shining courts above,

With joyful haste he fled ;

Enter'd the grave in mortal flesh,

And dwelt among the dead.

O! for this love, let rocks and hills

Their lasting silence break;
And all harmonious human tongues

The Saviour's praises speak.

Mourner, art thou conscience-stricken,

Deeply now convinced of sin,
Powerless, thy dead soul to quicken

By the serpent stung within ?
To the cross look up and live,
Life and health one look can give.

Jesus, on that cross suspended,

Died to expiate thy guilt-
Satisfied God's law offended,

Saved thee by the blood He spilt :
To the cross look up and live,
Life and health one look can give.

God will, for His sake, forgive thee,

Boldly through His name apply,
Perfect soundness He will give thee,

If on Him be fix'd thine eye.
To the cross look up and live,
Life and health one look can give.

“ THE INVALID's Hyun Book.”



Ye are bought with a price.-1 COR. vi. 20.

With the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot.- PETER i. 19.

The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.-1 JOHN i. 7.

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With blood, but not his own-the awful sign
At once of sin's desert, and guilt's remission,
The Jew besought the clemency divine,
The hope of mercy blending with contrition.

Sin must have death! it's holy requisition
The law may not relax. The opening tomb
Expects it's prey; mere respite, life's condition ;
Nor can the body shun it's penal doom.
Yet there is mercy; wherefore else delay
To punish ? why the victim and the rite ?
But can the type and symbol take away
The guilt, and for a broken law requite ?
The Cross unfolds the mystery : Jesus died-
The sinner lives—the law is satisfied !

With blood, but not his own the Jew drew near
The mercy .seat, and Heaven received his prayer ;
Yet still his hope was dimm’d by doubt and fear :
If Thou shouldst mark transgression, who might dare
To stand before Thee ? Mercy loves to spare
And pardon : but stern Justice has a voice,
And cries, “ Our God is holy, nor can bear
Uncleanness in the people of His choice.”
But now ONE OFFERING ne'er to be renewed,
Hath made our peace forever. This now gives
Free access to the throne of heavenly grace.
No more base fear and dark disquietude !
He who was slain—the accepted Victim! lives,
And intercedes before the Father's face.

Josiah CONDER.

Blessed, holy, spotless Lamb!

Seated on the rainbow'd throne,
Wilt Thou take me as I am ?
Wilt Thou one so guilty own?

Yes! it was for such as I

That Thy precious blood was spilt :
Nothing brought Thee here to die

Nothing but our woe and guilt.

Shed it was: the purple tide

Flow'd o'er Calv'ry's riven mount :-
Gushing from Thy mangled side,

Fillid the sin-atoning fount.

'Tis enough! no leprous spot

Meets Jehovah's piercing gaze:
All is pardon'd-all forgot-

Saviour, take the endless praise !

Lo! the white-rob'd choirs arise,

Hark! I hear their lofty strain :
Join, my soul, the pealing skies,

Shout- The Lamb for sinners slain!


I was a stricken deer, that left the berd
Long since : with many an arrow deep infix’d,
My panting side was charged, when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades,–
There was I found by One who had Himself
Been hurt by the archers. In His side He bore,
And in His hands and feet, the cruel scars.
With gentle force soliciting the darts,
He drew them forth, and heal’d, and bade me live.


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