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3 This world the Master overcame,
This death the Lord did die;
O hallowed agony !
Unto the Lord in Heaven;
Such glory strange is given. 5 But not this fleshly robe alone
Shall link us, Lord, to thee;
Shall the dear kindred be. 6 Our earthly garments thou hast worn,
And we thy robes may wear!
share! 7 O mighty grace, our life to live,
To make our Earth divine!
And lift our life to thine !
1 Heal us, Emmanuel! Here we are,
Waiting to feel thy touch:
And, Saviour, we are such.
2 Our faith is feeble, we confess :
We faintly trust thy word;
Be that far from thee, Lord !
With trembling for relief;
Help, Thou, mine unbelief.”
press, And healing virtue stole, Was answered, “ Daughter, go
peace, Thy faith hath made thee whole." 5 Concealed amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunned thy view;
Had strong misgivings, too. 6 Like her, with hopes and fears, we come
To touch thee, if we may,
Send none unhealed away.
194. L. M.
1 Oh God! who giv'st Thy servants grace,
Amid the storms of life distrest,
2 To see Thy light in him that shone,
Eclipsed for us in sorrow pale,
Through shadows of a mortal veil. 3 Be ours, O King of mercy! still
To feel Thy presence from above,
To hear Thy voice and know Thy love. 4 And when the toils of life are done,
And nature waits Thy dread decree,
1 “Descend to thy Jerusalem, O Lord !”
Her faithful children cry with one accord;
Our guilty lusts and proud wills in thy way! 2 Thy road is ready, Lord ! — thy paths, made
straight, In longing expectation seem to wait The consecration of thy beauteous feet :
And hark ! Hosannas loud thy footsteps greet ! 3 Welcome, O welcome to our hearts, Lord! here
Thou hast a temple too, and full as dear
4 Enter and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor!
Destroy their strength, that they may never more Profane with traffic vile that holy place,
Which thou hast chosen, there to set thy face. 5 And then, if our stiff tongues shall silent be
In praises of thy finished victory,
1 Lord! we sit and cry to thee!
Like the blind beside the way: Make our darkened souls to see
The glory of thy perfect day! Lord ! rebuke our sullen night
And give thyself unto our sight. 2 Lord ! we do not ask to gaze
On our dim and earthly sun;
When every star its course hath run;
1 Come, said Jesus' sacred voice,
Come, and make my paths your choice:
2 Thou who, houseless, sole, forlorn,
Long hast borne the proud world's scorn,
Weary pilgrim, hither haste!
Seek for ease, but seek in vain;
Watch to see the morning rise : 4 Ye, by fiercer anguish torn,
In remorse for guilt who mourn,
A wounded spirit who can bear! 5 Sinner, come! for here is found
Balm that flows for every wound;
1 Behold, where in a mortal form
Appears each grace divine;
With mildest radiance shine.
To give the mourner joy,
Was his divine employ.