Search, prove my heart; it looks to thee,
O burst its bonds, and set it free!
2 Wash out its stains, remove its dross,
Bind my affections to the cross;
Hallow each thought, let all within
Be clean, as thou, my Lord, art clean.
3 If in this darksome wild I stray,
Be thou my light, be thou my way;
No foes, no violence I fear,
No harm, while thou, my God, art near,
4 When rising floods my soul o'erflow,
When sinks my heart in waves of wo,
Jesus, thy timely aid impart,
And raise my head, and cheer my heart.
5 Saviour! where'er thy steps I see,
Dauntless, untir'd, I follow thee:
O let thy hand support me still,
And lead me to thy holy hill.
(See Hymns on Repentance.)
PASSION WEEK, AND GOOD FRIDAY
HYMN 61.
Isaiah lxiii. 1—4.
1 WHO is this that comes from Edom,
All his raiment stain'd with blood,
To the captive speaking freedom,
Bringing and bestowing good;
Glorious in the garb he wears,
Gloricus in the spoil he bears?
2 'Tis the Saviour, now victorious,
Trav'ling onward in his might;
'Tis the Saviour, O how glorious
To his people is the sight!
Satan conquer'd, and the grave,
Jesus now is strong to save.
3 Why that blood his raiment staining?
'Tis the blood of many slain;
Of his foes there's none remaining,
None, the contest to maintain :
Fall'n they are, no more to rise,
All their glory prostrate lies.
4 Mighty Victor, reign for ever,
Wear the crown so dearly won!
Never shall thy people, never,
Cease to sing what thou hast done! Thou hast fought thy people's foes; Thou hast heal'd thy people's woes!
1 WHEN I survey the wond'rous 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 cross of Christ my God: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to thy 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 a Saviour's crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my life, my soul, my all.
1 BEHOLD the Saviour of mankind
Nail'd to the shameful tree;
How vast the love that him inclin'd
To bleed and die for me!
2 Hark, how he groans! while nature shakes
And earth's strong pillars bend!
The temple's veil in sunder breaks,
The solid marbles rend.
3 'Tis done! the precious ransom's paid;
"Receive my soul!" he cries;
See where he bows his sacred head!
He bows his head and dies!
4 But soon, he'll break death's envious chain
And in full glory shine;
O Lamb of God! was ever pain,
Was ever love like thine!
I saw my sins his blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail him there.
4 Alas! I knew not what I did;
But now my tears are vain ;
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain.
5 A second look he gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive;
"This blood is for thy ransom paid, "I die that thou may'st live."
6 Thus, while his death my sin displays In all its blackest hue,
(Such is the mystery of grace,)
It seals my pardon too.
HYMN 65.
1 FROM whence these direful omens round, Which heav'n and earth amaze?
Wherefore do earthquakes cleave the ground? Why hides the sun his rays?
2 Well may the earth astonish'd shake,
And nature sympathize!
The sun as darkest night be black!
Their Maker, Jesus, dies!
3 Behold, fast streaming from the tree,
His all-atoning blood!
Is this the Infinite? 'tis he,
My Saviour and my God!
4 For me these pangs his soul assail,
For me this death is berne;
My sins gave sharpness to the nail,
And pointed ev'ry thorn.
5 Let sin no more my soul enslave,
Break, Lord, its tyrant chain;
O save me, whom thou cam'st to save,
Nor bleed, nor die in vain!
HYMN 66.
St. John xix. 30.
1 'TIS finish'd-so the Saviour cried,
And meekly bow'd his head and died;
'Tis finish'd-yes, the work is done,
The battle fought, the vict'ry won.
2 'Tis finish'd-all that heav'n decreed,
And all the ancient prophets said,
Is now fulfill'd, as long design'd,
In me, the Saviour of mankind.
3 'Tis finish'd-Aaron now no more
Must stain his robes with purple gore;
The sacred veil is rent in twain,
And Jewish rites no more remain.
4 'Tis finish'd-this, my dying groan,
Shall sins of ev'ry kind atone;
Millions shall be redeem'd from death,
By this, my last expiring breath.
5 'Tis finish'd-heav'n is reconcil'd,
And all the pow'rs of darkness spoil'd:
Peace, love, and happiness, again
Return and dwell with sinful men
6 'Tis finish'd-let the joyful sound
Be heard through all the nations round;
'Tis finish'd let the echo fly
Through heav'n and hell, through earth and sky.
1 HIGH on the bending willows hung,
Israel, still sleeps the tuneful string?
Still mute remains the sullen tongue,
And Zion's song denies to sing?
2 Awake! thy loudest raptures raise;
Let harp and voice unite their strains:
Thy promis'd King his sceptre sways;
Behold, thy own Messiah reigns.
3 By foreign streams no longer roam,
And, weeping, think on Jordan's flood;
In ev'ry cline behold a home;
In ev'ry temple see thy God.
4 No taunting focs the song require;
No strangers mock thy captive chain;
Thy friends provoke the silent lyre,
And brethren ask the holy strain.
5 Then why on bending willows hung,
Israel, still sleeps the tuneful string?
Why mute remains the sullen tongue,
And Zion's song delays to sing ?
1 Cor. v. 8. Rom. vi. 9, 10, 11.
1 SINCE Christ our Passover is slain,
Let all, with thankful hearts, agree
To keep the festival:
2 Not with the leaven, as of old,
Of sin and malice fed;
But with unfeign'd sincerity,
And truth's unleaven'd bread.
3 Christ being raised by pow'r divine,
And rescu'd from the grave,
Shall die no more; death shall on him
No more dominion have.
4 For that he died, 'twas for our sins
He once vouchsaf'd to die;
But that he lives, he lives to God
For all eternity.
5 So count yourselves as dead to sin,
But graciously restor❜d,
And made, henceforth, alive to God,
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
1 CHRIST the Lord is ris'n to day,
Sons of men and angels say:
Raise your joys and triumphs high,
Sing ye heav'ns, and earth reply!
2 Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the vict'ry won:
Jesus' agony is o'er,
Darkness veils the earth no more.
3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal,
Christ has burst the gates of hell;
Death in vain forbids him rise,
Christ hath open'd paradise.
4 Soar we now where Christ hath led,
Following our exalted Head;
Made like him, like him we rise;
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.
1 YE faithful souls who Jesus know, If ris'n indeed with him ye are, Superior to the joys below,
His resurrection's pow'r declare:
2 Your faith by holy tempers prove,
By actions show your sins forgiv'n,
And seek the glorious things above,
And follow Christ, your head, to heav'n.
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