109

B

OUND

upon

the 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 pierced, By the baffled burning thirst, By the drooping death-dewed brow, Son of Man, 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou. 2 Bound upon the accursed tree, Dread and awful, who is He? By the sun at noon-day pale, Shivering rocks and rending vale, Earth that trembles at His doom, Yonder saints who burst their tomb, Eden promised ere He died To the felon at His side,

3

Lord, our suppliant knees we bow;
Son of God, 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou.

Bound upon the accursed tree,

Sad and dying, who is He?

By the last and bitter cry

Of expiring 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

ΙΙΟ

Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?

By the prayer for them that slew,
"Lord, they know not what they do ;"
By the spoiled 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.

ROM Calvary's cross a fountain flows,
Of water and of blood;

FRO

More healing than Bethesda's pool,
Or famed Siloam's flood.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;

And we would there, defiled as he,
Wash all our sins away.

3 Atoning Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.

4 O then in nobler, sweeter songs, We'll sing Thy power to save,

When these poor lisping, stammering tongues Lie silent in the grave.

I l I

L

ORD of my heart, by Thy last cry,
Let not Thy blood in vain be
Lo! at Thy feet I fainting lie;

spent:

Mine eyes upon Thy cross are bent;
Upon Thy cross my weary eyes
Wait, like parched lands on April skies.

2 Fountain of unexhausted love,
Of infinite compassions, hear!
My Saviour and my Prince above,
Once more in my behalf appear!
Repentance, faith, and pardon give;
O let me turn again, and live!

I 12

S

AVIOUR, we lift our trembling eyes

To that bright seat where, placed on high,

The great, the atoning sacrifice,

For us, for all, is ever nigh.

2 Be Thou our guard on peril's brink,

Be Thou our guide through weal or woe; And teach us of Thy cup to drink,

And make us in Thy path to go.

3 For what is earthly change or loss?
Thy promises are still our own:
The feeblest frame may bear Thy cross,
The lowliest spirit share Thy throne.

113

WE

E 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 Inscribed 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,
The sinner's refuge here below,

The angels' theme in heaven above.

6 To Christ, who won for sinners grace
By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
For ever and for evermore.

114

AKE up thy cross, the Saviour said,
If thou wouldst my disciple be;
Deny thyself, the world forsake,
And humbly follow after me.

2 Take up thy cross: let not its weight
Fill thy weak spirit with alarm;

His strength shall bear thy spirit up,
And brace thy heart, and nerve thine arm.
3 Take up thy cross, nor heed the shame,
Nor let thy foolish pride rebel :

4

5

115

The Lord for thee the cross endured,
To save thy soul from death and hell.

Take up thy cross in His dear might,
And calmly every danger. brave;
"Twill guide thee to a better home,
And lead to victory o'er the grave.

Take up thy cross, and follow Christ,
Nor think till death to lay it down;

For only he who bears the cross
May hope to wear the glorious crown.

T length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid

A Deep in Thy darksome bed;

All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone
Thy sacred form is gone;

Around those lips where power and

mercy hung,

The dews of death have clung;

The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around,

Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound.