Of his foes there's none remaining,
None, the contest to maintain :
Fallen 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 healed thy people's woes.
"The preaching of the cross is unto us who are
saved the power of God."
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 lost.
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 terror 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 angel's theme in heaven above.
"God forbid that I should glory save in the cross
of our Lord Jesus Christ."
HE Royal banners forward go,
The Cross shines forth in mystic glow;
Where he, in flesh, our flesh who made,
Our sentence bore, our ransom paid.
2 There whilst he hung, his sacred side
By soldier's spear was opened wide,
To cleanse us in the precious flood
Of water mingled with his blood.
3 O tree of glory, tree most fair,
Ordained those holy limbs to bear,
How bright in purple robe it stood,
The purple of a Saviour's blood!
4 Upon its arms, like balance true,
He weighed the price for sinners due,
The price which none but he could pay,
And spoiled the spoiler of his prey.
5 To thee, Eternal Three in One,
Let homage meet by all be done :
As by the Cross thou dost restore,
So rule and guide us evermore.
"Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the
sins of the world."
EHOLD the Lamb of God!
O thou for sinners slain,
Let it not be in vain
That thou hast died:
Thee for my Saviour let me take,
My only refuge let me make
Thy pierced side.
Behold the Lamb of God!
Into the sacred flood
Of thy most precious blood
My soul I cast:
Wash me and make me clean within,
And keep me pure from every sin,
Till life be passed.
Behold the Lamb of God!
All hail, incarnate Word,
Thou everlasting Lord,
Saviour most blest;
Fill us with love that never faints,
Grant us with all thy blessèd saints,
Eternal rest.
Behold the Lamb of God!
Worthy is he alone,
That sitteth on the throne
Of God above;
One with the Ancient of all days,
One with the Comforter in praise,
All Light and Love.
"Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Behold, and
see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow.
EE the destined day arise!
See, a willing sacrifice;
Jesus, to redeem our loss,
Hangs upon the shameful cross!
2 Jesus, who but thou had borne,
Lifted on that tree of scorn,
Every pang and bitter throe,
Finishing thy life of woe?
3 Who but thou had dared to drain,
Steeped in gall, the cup of pain;
And with tender body bear
Thorns, and nails, and piercing spear?
4 Thence the cleansing water flowed,
Mingled from thy side with blood;
Sign to all attesting eyes
Of the finished sacrifice.
5 Holy Jesus, grant us grace
In that sacrifice to place
All our trust for life renewed,
Pardoned sin, and promised good.
Good Friday.
"Truly this was the Son of God."
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-dew'd brow,
Son of Man! 'tis thou! 'tis thou!
2 Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is he?
By the sun at noonday pale,
Shivering rocks, and rending veil,
By the earth enwrapt in gloom,
By the saints who burst their tomb,
Eden promised ere he died
To the felon at his side;
Lord! our suppliant knees we bow!
Son of God! 'tis thou! 'tis thou!
3 Bound upon the accursed tree,
Sad and dying, who is he?
By the last and bitter cry
Of the dying agony,
By the lifeless body, laid
In the chambers 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 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 spoil'd 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!
"God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross
of our Lord Jesus Christ."
HEN I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
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