Thro' the whole earth he rolls his voice;
Thus speaks the mighty God:
"Sinners, behold the tortur'd man,
"Behold the crimson flood."
Jesus, we look, and are amaz'd,
Yet pleas'd with what we see;
While we behold the fruits of love,
Dropping from Calv'ry's tree.
Lord, help us to improve the sight,
On thy dear self recline;
And thro' the emblems of thy death,
Enjoy a life divine,
While of thy supper we partake,
May all be richly bless'd;
And at the marriage feast above,
Be each an honour'd guest.
There of thy bleeding love we'll sing,
Sing with transported souls;
While all the wonders of the cross
O'er ev'ry spirit rolls.
387. Eternal Life flows from Calvary's purple Stream.
My wond'ring soul, what dost thou see,
On yonder mountain shine!
Sure 'tis the most amazing sight,
That e'er by man was seen.
O'tis a sight that makes me weep,
And yet doth joy impart;
A sight that wounds, a sight that heals,
A sight that charms my heart.
O may my spirit now adore
The suff'ring Son of God!
And never, never, cease to gaze,
Upon the flowing blood.
Now, Lord, thro' thy rich sacrifice,
May all my sins depart;
And with a blaze of dying love,
Break, and dissolve my heart.
Lord, help us now to sing aloud,
Jesus shall be the theme;
For life eternal richly flows,
From Calv'ry's purple stream.
Lord, to thy cross we'd fix our eyes;
Thy bleeding love adore;
And triumph in thy sacrifice,
When time shall be no more.
388. The Gospel Feast.
O WHAT a noble feast is this!
It makes us sweetly sing;
Thro' bread and wine we clearly trace, The death of Christ our king.
In bread, we view the bruised flesh, In wine we see the blood;
And oh! the flesh and blood of Christ,
Prove most delightful food.
Our happy spirits now admire,
The dying Prince of Peace;
For in his suff'rings we behold,
A matchless scene of grace:-
O Jesus, may our longing eyes,
Be fasten'd on thy death;
May we thus gaze our time away,
And thus resign our breath.
Then may we all triumphant rise,
Up to the courts on high;
There will Immanuel feast his saints,
And make them sing for joy.
Celestial love, and sacred blood,
Shall fill the noble song;
Sweet hallelujahs shall employ
The wond'rous happy throng.
389. Pardon brought to our Senses.
LORD, how divine thy comforts are!
How heav'nly is the place
Where Jesus spreads the sacred feast
Of his redeeming grace!
There the rich bounties of our God,
And sweetest glories shine;
There Jesus says, that "I am his,
And my beloved's mine."
"Here," (says the kind redeeming Lord,
And shews his wounded side)
"See here the spring of all your joys,
"That open'd when I dy'd!"
[He smiles and cheers my mournful heart,
And tells of all his pain;
"All this,' says he, I bore for thee;"
And then he smiles again.]
What shall we pay our heav'nly King For grace so vast as this?
He brings our pardon to our eyes,
And seals it with a kiss.
[Let such amazing loves as these
Be sounded all abroad;
Such favours are beyond degrees,
And worthy of a God.]
[To him that wash'd us in his blood
Be everlasting praise;
Salvation, honour, glory, pow'r,
Eternal as his days.]
390. The Agonies of Christ. c. M.
Now let our pains be all forgot,
Our hearts no more repine;
Our suff'rings are not worth a thought,
When, Lord, compar'd with thine.
In lively figures here we see
The bleeding Prince of Love;
Each of us hopes he dy'd for me,
And then our griefs remove.
[Our humble faith here takes her rise,
While sitting round his board;
And back to Calvary she flies
To view her groaning Lord.
His soul, what agonies it felt
When his own God withdrew;
And the large load of all our guilt
Lay heavy on him too!
But the divinity within
Supported him to bear:
Dying, he conquer'd hell and sin,
And made his triumph there.]
Grace, wisdom, justice, join'd and wrought
The wonders of that day:
No mortal tongue, nor mortal thought,
Can equal thanks repay.
Our hymns should sound like those above,
Could we our voices raise;
Yet, Lord, our hearts shall all be love,
And all our lives be praise.
391. Glorying in the Cross: or, not ashamed of Christ crucified. L.M.
Ar thy command, our dearest Lord,
Here we attend thy dying feast;
Thy blood-like wine adorns thy board,
Ånd thine own flesh feeds ev'ry guest.
Our faith adores thy bleeding love,
And trusts for life in one that dy'd;
We hope for heav'nly crowns above,
From a Redeemer crucify'd.
Let the vain world pronounce it shame,
And fling their scandals on thy cause;
We come to boast our Saviour's name,
And make our triumph in his cross.
With joy we tell the scoffing age,
He that was dead hath left his tomb;
He lives above their utmost rage,
And we are waiting till he come.
|