HYMN 107. L. M.

1MY

WATTS.

Y dear Redeemer, and my Lord,
I read my duty in thy word;
But in thy life the law appears,
Drawn out in living characters.

2 Cold mountains, and the midnight air,
Witness'd the fervor of thy prayer:
The desert thy temptations knew,
Thy conflict, and thy vict'ry too.

3 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal,
Such def'rence to thy Father's will,
Thy love and meekness so divine,
I would transcribe, and make them mine.

HYMN 108. L. M.

COLLYER.

Transfiguration. Luke ix. 28-31.

1 N Tabor's top the Saviour stands, His alter'd face resplendent shines;

And, while he elevates his hands,
Lo! glory marks its gentle lines!
2 Two heavenly forms descend to wait
Upon their suffering Prince below;
But while they worship at his feet,
They talk of fast approaching wo.

3 Amid the lustre of the scene,
To Calvary he turns his eyes;
And, with submission, all serene,
He marks the future tempest rise.

4 Then let us climb the mount of prayer,
Where all his beaming glories shine;
And, gazing on his brightness there,
Our woes forget in joys divine.

5 Oh, that on yonder heavenly hills,
Where now the risen Saviour stands,.
And peace, like softest dew, distills-

I too may elevate my hands.

HYMN 109. L. M.

Gethsemane.

ΤΑΡΡΑΝ.

1'Tis midnight-and on Olive's brow,

'Timestar is dim'd that lately shone;

"Tis midnight-in the garden now, The suff'ring Saviour prays alone.

2 'Tis midnight—and from all remov'd, Immanuel wrestles lone, with fears; E'en the disciple that he lov'd

Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.

3 "Tis midnight—and for others' guilt
The man of sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet he that hath in anguish knelt,
Is not forsaken by his God.

4 'Tis midnight-and from ether plains,
Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly sooth the Saviour's wo-

STEELE.

HYMN 110. L. M.

STR

Sufferings and Death.

TRETCH'D on the cross, the Saviour dies;

Hark! his expiring groans arise: See from his hands, his feet, his side, Runs down the sacred crimson tide. 2 But life attends the deathful sound, And flows from every bleeding wound; The vital stream how free it flows, To save and cleanse his rebel foes! 3 Can I survey this scene of wo, Where mingling grief and wonder flow; And yet my heart unmov'd remain, Insensible to love, or pain?

4 Come, dearest Lord, thy grace impart, To warm this cold, this stupid heart! "Till all its pow'rs and passions move In melting grief, and ardent love.

1

Ο

HYMN 111. L. P. M.

LOVE divine, what hast thou done! The Lord of life hath dy'd for me! The Father's co-eternal Son

Bore all my sins upon the tree; Th' incarnate God for me hath dy'd The Lord, my love, was crucifi'd.

2 Sinners, behold, as ye pass by,

The bleeding Prince of life and peace;

Come, sinners, see your Saviour die,
And say, was ever grief like his?
Come, feel with me his blood appli'd,
The Lord, my love, was crucifi'd:
3 Is crucifi'd for you and me,

To bring us, rebels, back to God;
Salvation now for us is free;

His church is purchas'd with his blood; Pardon and life flow from his side; The Lord, my love, is crucifi'd.

4 Then let us sit beneath his cross,

1

And gladly catch the healing stream
All things for him account but dross,
And give up all our hearts to him;
Of nothing speak, or think beside,
The Lord, my love, was crucifi'd.

HYMN 112, C. M.

YO

STENNETT.

ONDER-amazing sight-I see
Th' incarnate Son of God,
Expiring on th' accursed tree,
And welt'ring in his blood.

2 Behold the purple torrent run

Down from bis hands and head: The crimson tide puts out the sun; His groans awake the dead.

3 The trembling earth, the darken'd sky, Proclaim the truth aloud;

And with the amaz'd centurion cry, "This is the Son of God."

4 So great, so vast a sacrifice May well my hope revive;

If God's own Son thus bleeds and dies,
The sinner sure may live.

It is finished. John xix. 30.

F.

1H Sounds aloud from Calvary; ARK! the voice of love and mercy!

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

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

Saints, the dying words record.
3 Finish'd-all the types and shadows
Of the ceremonial law;

Finish'd-all that God had promis'd;

Death and hell no more shall awe :

It is finish'd!—

Saints, from hence your comforts draw. 4 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,― Join to sing the pleasing theme; All on earth, and all in heaven, Join to praise Immanuel's name : Hallelujah!

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!