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Thy bitter Death shall be My constant memory, My guide at last into death's awful shade.

Miss Winkworth. 1855.
T. Salaman Franol. 1714-

184 8, 7, 7.
1 ALL is o'er, the pain, the sorrow, .
Human taunts and Satan's spite;
Death shall be despoiled to-morrow
Of the prey he grasps to-night;
Yet once more, to seal his doom,
Christ must sleep within the tomb.

2 Fierce and deadly was the anguish
Which on yonder Cross He bore;
How did soul and body languish
Till the toil of death was o'er
But that toil, so fierce and dread,
Bruised and crushed the serpent's head.

3 Close and still the cell that holds Him,
While in brief repose He lies;
Deep the slumber that enfolds Him,
Weiled awhile from mortal eyes;
Slumber such as needs must be
After hard-won yictory.

4. We this night with plaintive voicing
Chant His requiem soft and low;
Loftier strains of loud rejoicing
From to-morrow's harps shall flow :
Death and hell at length are slain,
Christ hath triumphed, Christ doth reign.

John Moultrie, 1858.

4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

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2 Thy bitter anguish o'er,
To this dark tomb they bore
Thee, Life of life—Thee, Lord of all creation'
The hollow rocky cave
Must serve Thee for a grave,
Who wast Thyself the Rock of our salvation 1

3 O Prince of Life " I know That when I too lie low, Thou wilt at last my soul from death awaken: Wherefore I will not shrink From the grave's awful brink; The heart that trusts in Thee shall ne'er be shaken.

4 To me the darksome tomb Is but a narrow room, Where I may rest in peace, from sorrow free. Thy Death shall give me power To cry in that dark hour, 0 Death ! O Grave! where is your victory?

5 The grave can naught destroy; Only the flesh can die, And even the body triumphs o'er decay: Clothed by Thy wondrous might In robes of dazzling light, This flesh shall burst the grave at that Last Day.

6 My Jesus, day by day, Help me to watch and pray, Beside the tomb where in my heart Thou'rt laid.

Thy bitter Death shall be
My constant memory,
My guide at last into death's awful shade.

Miss Winkworth. 1855.
Tr. Solomon Franck. 1716.

186 C. M. 1 JEsus, Thy soul, for ever blest, Hath gone among the dead, And to his peaceful place of rest The dying thief hath led.

2 And all for us; that when, ere long,
We shall resign our breath,
We may not fear to go among
The unseen shades of death.
3 In death's dark vale I soon must be,
But I will nothing fear;
Thy rod and staff will comfort me;
Thou hast Thyself been there.

Unknown. 1847.

187 Der Du, Herr Jesu, Ruh und Rast. L. M.

1 LoRD Jesus, who, our souls to save,
Didst rest and slumber in the grave,
Now grant us all in Thee to rest,
And here to live as seems Thee best.

2 Give us the strength, the dauntless faith,
That Thou hast purchased with Thy Death,
And lead us to that glorious place,
Where we shall see the Father’s face.
3 O Lamb of God, who once was slain,
We thank Thee for that bitter pain.
Let us partake Thy Death, that we
May enter into Life with Thee.
Miss Winkworth. 1858.
Tr. George Werner. 1538.

18S 8, 7. - 1 HAIL, all hail, Thou Lord of glory! Thee our Father, Thee we own Abraham heard not of our story, Israel ne'er our name hath known:

2. But, Redeemer, Thou hast sought us,
Thou hast heard Thy children's wail;
Thou with Thy dear Blood hast bought us;
Hail, Thou mighty Victor, hail!
Unknown. 1854.

EASTER. 189 L. M.

1 HE dies, the Friend of sinners dies
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around.
A solemn darkness veils the skies;
A sudden trembling shakes the ground.

2 Come, saints, and drop a tear or two
For Him who groaned beneath your load:
He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood.

3 Here's love and grief beyond degree:
The Lord of glory dies for men
But lo, what sudden joys we see
Jesus, the dead, revives again.

4 The rising God forsakes the tomb
The tomb in vain forbids His rise:
Cherubic legions guard Him home,
And shout Him welcome to the skies.

5 Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell
How high your great Deliverer reigns.
Sing how he spoiled the hosts of hell,
And led the monster, Death, in chains.

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Christ the Lord is risen to-day,
Sons of men and angels say.
Raise your joys and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.
Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle won;
Lo! our Sun's eclipse is o'er;
Lo! He sets in blood no more.
Wain the stone, the watch, the seal;
Christ hath burst the gates of hell!
Death in vain forbids His rise;
Christ hath opened Paradise.
Lives again our glorious King ;
Where, 0 Death, is now Thy sting?
Dying once, He all doth save;
Where thy victory, O Grave?
Soar we now where Christ has led,
Following our exalted Head:
Made like Him, like Him we rise;
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies!

What though once we perished all,
Partners in our parents' fall:
Second life we now receive,
In our heavenly Adam live.
Hail, the Lord of earth and heaven
Praise to Thee by both be given:
Thee we greet triumphant now ;
Hail, the Resurrection Thou!
C. Wesley. 1739.

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