JESUS! thy love shall we forget,

MITCHELL.

And never bring to mind
The grace that paid our hopeless debt,
And bade us pardon find?

2 Shall we thy life of grief forget,

Thy fasting and thy prayer;
Thy locks with mountain vapors wet,
To save us from despair?

3 Gethsemane can we forget-
Thy struggling agony;
When night lay dark on Olivet,
And none to watch with thee?

4 Our sorrows and our sins were laid

On thee, alone on thee;
Thy precious blood our ransom paid—
Thine all the glory be!

5 Life's brightest joys we may forget-
Our kindred cease to love;
But he who paid our hopeless debt,
Our constancy shall prove.

3 Let grace our selfishness expel,
Our earthliness refine;
And kindness in our bosoms dwell
As free and true as thine.

4 If joy shall at thy bidding fly,

And grief's dark day come on, We, in our turn, would meekly cry, "Father, thy will be done!"

5 Kept peaceful in the midst of strife, Forgiving and forgiven,

Oh, may we lead the pilgrim's life,
And follow thee to heaven!

THOU art the Way: to thee alone
From sin and death we flee;
And he who would the Father seek,
Must seek him, Lord, by thee.

2 Thou art the Truth: thy word alone
True wisdom can impart;
Thou only canst instruct the mind,
And purify the heart.

3 Thou art the Life: the rending tomb
Proclaims thy conquering arm;
And those who put their trust in thee
Nor death nor hell shall harm.

4 Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life:
Grant us to know that Way;
That Truth to keep, that Life to win,
Which leads to endless day.

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

WATTS.

301

1 Tim. 1:15.

WATTS.

Nor to condemn the sons of men, Did Christ, the Son of God, appear; No weapons in his hands are seen, No flaming sword, nor thunder there. 2 Such was the pity of our God, He loved the race of man so well, He sent his Son to bear our load Of sins, and save our souls from hell. 3 Sinners, believe the Saviour's word; Trust in his mighty name, and live: A thousand joys his lips afford, His hands a thousand blessings give.

How sweetly flowed the gospel sound From lips of gentleness and grace, When listening thousands gathered round,

And joy and gladness filled the place! 2 From heaven he came, of heaven he spoke, To heaven he led his followers' way; Dark clouds of gloomy night he broke, Unvailing an immortal day.

3 "Come, wanderers, to my Father's home,
Come, all ye weary ones, and rest :"
Yes, sacred Teacher, we will come,
Obey thee, love thee, and be blest!
4 Decay then, tenements of dust;
Pillars of earthly pride, decay:
A nobler mansion waits the just,
And Jesus has prepared the way.

9:23

303

Now be my heart inspired to sing The glories of my Saviour King,Jesus the Lord; how heavenly fair His form! how bright his beauties are! 2 O'er all the sons of human race,

He shines with a superior grace:
Love from his lips divinely flows,
And blessings all his state compose.
3 Thy throne, O God, forever stands;

Grace is the sceptre in thy hands;
Thy laws and works are just and right;
Justice and grace are thy delight.

4 God, thine own God, has richly shed
His oil of gladness on thy head;
And with his sacred Spirit blessed
His first-born Son above the rest.
Heb. 7:26.

A. C. COXE.

304
How beauteous were the marks divine,
That in thy meekness used to shine,
That lit thy lonely pathway, trod
In wondrous love, O Son of God!

2 Oh, who like thee, so calm, so bright,
So
so made to live in light?
pure,
Oh, who like thee did ever go
So patient through a world of woe?

3 Oh, who like thee so humbly bore
The scorn, the scoffs of men, before?
So meek, forgiving, godlike, high,
So glorious in humility?

WHEN, like a stranger on our sphere, The lowly Jesus wandered here, Where'er he went, affliction fled, And sickness reared her fainting head. 2 The eye that rolled in irksome night, Beheld his face,-for God is light; The opening ear, the loosened tongue, His precepts heard, his praises sung.

3 With bounding steps the halt and lame,
To hail their great Deliverer came;
O'er the cold grave he bowed his head,
He spake the word, and raised the dead.

4 Despairing madness, dark and wild,
In his inspiring presence smiled;
The storm of horror ceased to roll,
And reason lightened through the soul.

5 Through paths of loving-kindness led,
Where Jesus triumphed we would tread;
To all, with willing hands dispense
The gifts of our benevolence.

306

Luke 22: 43.

'Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow The star is dimmed that lately shone: 'Tis midnight; in the garden, now,

The suffering Saviour prays alone.

2 T is midnight; and from all removed, The Saviour wrestles lone with fears; Ev'n that disciple whom he loved

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 soothe the Saviour's woe.

O SUFFERING Friend of human-kind!
How, as the fatal hour drew near,
Came thronging on thy holy mind
The images of grief and fear!

2 Gethsemane's sad midnight scene,
The faithless friends, the exulting foes,
The thorny crown, the insult keen,
The
scourge, the
before thee rose.
cross,
3 Onward, like thee, thro' scorn and dread,
May we our Father's call obey,
Steadfast the path of duty tread,
And rise, through death, to endless day.
309

John 19:30.

STENNETT.

310 FROM Calvary a cry was heardA bitter and heart-rending cry; My Saviour! every mournful word Bespoke thy soul's deep agony. 2 A horror of great darkness fell On thee, thou spotless, holy One! And all the eager hosts of hell Conspired to tempt God's only Son. 3 The scourge, the thorns, the deep dis

4 Jesus, whose dwelling is the skies,
Went down into the grave for me;
There overcame my enemies,
There won the glorious victory.

WHEN 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.

2 Forbid it, Lord! that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 Sce, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

5 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.