142

8th P. M. 87, 87, 47.

It is finished.

ARK! the voice of love and mercy

Hsounds aloud from Calvary;

See! it rends the rocks asunder,
Shakes the earth, and veils the sky;
It is finish'd:-

Hear the dying Saviour cry.
2 It is finish'd! O what pleasure
Do these precious words afford!
Heavenly blessings, without measure,
Flow to us from Christ the Lord:
It is finish'd:
:-

Saints, the dying words record.
3 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs;
Join to sing the pleasing theme e;
All on earth, and all in heaven,
Join to praise Immanuel's Name;
It is finish'd:-

Glory to the bleeding Lamb.

143

"TIS

His dying cry.

L. M.

IS finish'd! so the Saviour said, And meekly bow'd his dying head: "Tis finish'd! yes, the race is run; The battle fought; the vict'ry won. 2 'Tis finish'd! let the joyful sound Be heard the spacious earth around: 'Tis finish'd let the echo fly

Through heaven and hell, through earth and sky.

144

'TIS

The atonement completed.

L. M.

IS finish'd! the Messiah dies,-
Cut off for sins, but not his own;
Accomplish'd is the sacrifice,-
The great redeeming work is done.

2 'Tis finish'd! all the debt is paid;
Justice divine is satisfied;
The grand and full atonement made;
Christ for a guilty world hath died.
3 The veil is rent; in him alone
The living way to heaven is seen;
The middle wall is broken down,
And all mankind may enter in.
4 The types and figures are fulfill'd;
Exacted is the legal pain;

The precious promises are seal'd;
The spotless Lamb of God is slain.

5 Death, hell, and sin are now subdued;
All grace is now to sinners given;
And, lo! I plead the' atoning blood,
And in thy right I claim my heaven.

145

Glorying only in the cross.

WHEN

L. M.

WHEN I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride. 2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down: Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown? 4 Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

146

Godly sorrow at the cross.

C. M.

LAS! and did my Saviour bleed?
And did my Sov'reign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

2 Was it for crimes that I have done,
He groan'd upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

3 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in,

When Christ, the mighty Maker, died, For man, the creature's sin.

4 Thus might I hide my blushing face While his dear cross appears; Dissolve my heart in thankfulness, And melt mine eyes to tears. 5 But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe :

Here, Lord, I give myself away,— "Tis all that I can do.

147

A

Glory to the dying Lamb.

LL glory to the dying Lamb,
And never-ceasing praise,

C. M.

While angels live to know thy name,
Or men to feel thy grace.

2 With this cold stony heart of mine, Jesus, to thee I flee;

And to thy grace my soul resign,
To be renew'd by thee.

30 may the uncorrupted Seed
Abide and reign within;
And thy life-giving word forbid
My new-born soul to sin.

THE RESURRECTION AND ASCENSION OF

JESUS CHRIST.

148

Dying, rising, reigning.

L. M.

HE

E dies! the Friend of sinners dies!
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around;
A solemn darkness veils the skies,

A sudden trembling shakes the ground:
Come, saints, and drop a tear or two
For him who groan'd beneath your load;
He shed a thousand drops for you,-
A thousand drops of richer blood.
2 Here's love and grief beyond degree:
The Lord of glory dies for man!
But lo! what sudden joys we see:
Jesus, the dead, revives again.
The rising God forsakes the tomb;
(In vain the tomb forbids his rise ;)
Cherubic legions guard him home,

And shout him welcome to the skies.
3 Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell
How high your great Deliv'rer reigns;
Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of hell,

And led the monster death in chains:
Say, Live forever, wondrous King!

Born to redeem, and strong to save; Then ask the monster, Where's thy sting? And, Where's thy vict'ry, boasting grave?

149

THE

Easter Sunday.

C. M.

HE Lord of Sabbath let us praise,
In concert with the blest,

Who, joyful in harmonious lays,
Employ an endless rest.

2 Thus, Lord, while we remember thee,
We blest and pious grow;

By hymns of praise we learn to be
Triumphant here below.

3 On this glad day a brighter scene
Of glory was display'd,

By the eternal Word, than when

This universe was made.

4 He rises, who mankind has bought, With grief and pain extreme:

'Twas great to speak the world from naught; 'Twas greater to redeem.

150

THE

Paradise opened.

HE Sun of righteousness appears,
To set in blood no more;

Adore the Scatt'rer of your fears,—

Your rising Sun adore.

C. M.

2 The saints, when he resign'd his breath,
Unclosed their sleeping eyes;

He breaks again the bands of death,-
Again the dead arise.

3 Alone the dreadful race he ran,

Alone the wine-press trod;

He dies and suffers as a man,

He rises as a God.

4 In vain the stone, the watch, the seal,

Forbid an early rise

To Him, who breaks the gates of hell,
And opens Paradise.

151

S. M.

Joy from the certainty of His resurrection.

THE Lord is risen indeed;

The grave hath lost its prey;

With him shall rise the ransom'd seed,
To reign in endless day.