3 Finished all the types and shadows Of the ceremonial law;
Finished all that God had promised; Death and hell no more shall awe: "It is finished!"
Saints, from hence your comfort draw. 4 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs, Joiu to sing the pleasing theme: All in earth and all in heaven, Join to praise Immanuel's name: Hallelujah!
Glory to the bleeding Lamb!
306 Gal. fil. 13.
OUND upon th' accursed tree,
Faint and bleeding-Who is He?
By the eyes so pale and dim,
Streaming blood and writhing limb;
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 noonday pale,
Shivering rocks, and rending veil;
By earth trembling at His doom,
By the saints who burst their tomb,
By the promise 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,
The ghost giv'n up in agony;
By the lifeless body laid
In the chamber of the dead;
By the mourners come to weep
Where the bones of Jesus sleep;
Crucified! we know Thee now!
Son of Man! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou!
4 Bound upon th' accursed tree,
Dread and awful-Who is He?
By the prayer for them that slew,
Lord, they know not what they do;
By the spoil'd and empty grave,
By the souls He died to save,
By the conquest He hath won,
By the saints before His throne,
By the rainbow round His brow,
Son of God! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou !
WE sing the praise of Him who died, Of Him who died upon the cross; The sinner's hope let men deride, For this we count the world but loss.
2 Inscrib'd upon the cross we see,
In shining letters, "God is love."
He bears our sins upon the tree,
He brings us mercy from above.
3 The Cross! it takes our guilt away,
It holds the fainting spirit up;
It cheers with hope the gloomy day,
And sweetens every bitter cup.
4 It makes the coward spirit brave,
And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
It takes its terrors from the grave,
And gilds the bed of death with light.
5 The balm of life, the cure of woe,
The measure and the pledge of love;
"Tis all that sinners want below,
"Tis all that angels know above.
HIS RESURRECTION.
1 Cor. xv. 57. 7'8. C. WESLEY.
YHRIST, the Lord, is' ris'n to-day,
Sons of men, and angels, say.
Raise your songs and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.
2 Love's redeeming work is done;
Fought the fight, the battle won.
Lo! the sun's eclipse is o'er :
Lo! he sets in blood no more.
3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal,
Christ hath burst the gates of hell.
Death in vain forbids Him rise:
Christ hath open'd paradise.
4 Lives again our glorious King,
Where, O Death, is now thy sting?
Once He died, our souls to save:
Where thy victory, O Grave?
5 Soar we now where Christ hath led,
Following our exalted Head:
Made like Him, like Him we rise;
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.
309 Mat. xxvill. 6.
LEST morning, whose young dawning
Beheld our rising God,
That saw Him triumph o'er the dust,
And leave His dark abode !
2 In the cold prison of a tomb
The dear Redeemer lay;
Till the revolving skies had brought
The third, th' appointed day.
3 Hell and the grave unite their force
To hold our God in vain ;
The sleeping Conqueror arose,
And burst their feeble chain.
4 To Thy great name, Almighty Lord,
These sacred hours we pay;
And loud hosannas shall proclaim
The triumph of the day.
5 Salvation and immortal praise
To our victorious King;
Let heaven and earth, and rocks, and seas,
With glad hosannas ring.
BHosannas fill the air;
RIGHT sunbeams deck the joyful sky,
The world is shouting victory,
And hell is in despair.
2 This morn our mighty King arose
From Death's infernal cave,
And many a saint to welcome Him
Hath left his ancient grave.
3 In vain they sealed the sepulchre,
And watch'd around His tomb;
The Lord hath gained the victory,
And Death is overcome.
4 Then weep no more at Death's dark power Let no more tears be shed;
For why? The Vanquisher of Death
Is risen from the dead.
5 To Him who battle did with Death
In pain and peril sore,
To Him who gain'd the victory
Be praises evermore.
CHRIST, the Lord, is ris'n to-day,
Our triumphant holy day,
He endured the cross and grave,
Sinners to redeem and save.
2 Lo! He rises, mighty King:
Where, O death, is now thy sting?
Lo! He claims His native sky:
Grave, where is thy victory?
3 Sinners, see your ransom paid,
Peace with God for ever made.
With your risen Saviour rise;
Claim your mansions in the skies.
4 Christ, the Lord, is ris'n to-day,
Our triumphant holy day.
Loud the song of victory raise ;
Shout the great Redeemer's praise.
COME, ye saints, look here and wonder,
See the place where Jesus lay.
He has burst His bands asunder:
He has borne our sins away.
Joyful tidings!
Yes, the Lord is ris'n to-day.
2 Jesus triumphs, sing ye praises:
"Twas by death He overcame.
Thus the Lord His glory raises;
Thus He fills His foes with shame.
Sing ye praises,
Praises to the Victor's name.
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