In death his drooping head declines,
'Tis done! he cries; and now
His soul resigns.

O come, my soul, and gaze

On that great grief, that crown of thorn;
In deep and dread amaze

There look and mourn.

For thee he shed his blood,

Weep, till with woe thine eyes grow dim; To that accursed wood

Thou hast nailed him.

To thee, the mighty Lord,
Who wash'd in blood our sins away,
Our boundless gratitude

Its thanks would pay.

ALL ye that pass by,

Α

To Jesus draw nigh;

is it nothing your Saviour should die? Your ransom and peace,

Your surety he is;

Come, see if there ever was sorrow like his.

For what you have done,

His blood must atone;

The Father hath given for you his dear Son; The Lord, in the day

Of his anger, did lay

Your sins on the Lamb, and he bore them away.

He answered for all;
O come at his call,

And low at his feet in astonishment fall:
For you and for me

The

He pray'd on the tree;

prayer is accepted, the sinner is free.

O lift

up your eyes,

'Tis finished! he cries;

Impassive, he suffers; immortal, he dies. My pardon I claim;

A sinner I am,

A sinner believing in Jesus' great name.

36

JES

ESUS! I come to thee,
A sinner doom'd to die;
My only refuge is thy cross,
Here at thy feet I lie.

Can mercy reach my case,

And all my sins remove ?

Break, O my God! this heart of stone,

And melt it by thy love.

Too long my soul has gone

Far from my God astray;

I've sported on the brink of hell,

In sin's delusive way.

But, Lord! my heart is fix'd,

I hope in thee alone;

Break off the chains of sin and death,

And bind me to thy throne.

37

Thy blood can cleanse my heart,
Thy hand can wipe my tears;
Oh! send thy blessed Spirit down
To banish all my fears.
Then shall my soul arise,
From sin and Satan free;
Redeem'd from hell and every foe,
I'll trust alone in thee.

I

LAY my sins on Jesus,
The spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all, and frees us
From the accursed load.

I bring my guilt to Jesus,

To wash my crimson stains,
White in his blood most precious,
Till not a spot remains.

I lay my wants on Jesus;
All fulness dwells in him;
He heals all my diseases,
He doth my soul redeem.
I lay my griefs on Jesus,
My burdens and my cares;
He from them all releases,
He all my sorrow shares.
I rest my soul on Jesus,
This weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,
I on his breast recline.
I love the name of Jesus,

Immanuel, Christ, the Lord;
Like fragrance on the breezes
His name abroad is pour'd.

38

39

I long to be like Jesus,
Meek, loving, lowly, mild;
I long to be like Jesus,
The Father's holy child.
I long to be with Jesus,
Amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints his praises,
To learn the angels' song.

No condemnation! O my soul,

'Tis God that speaks the word;
Perfect in comeliness art thou,
In Christ thy glorious Lord.

In heaven his blood for ever speaks,
In God the Father's ear;

His Church, the jewels, on his heart,
Jesus will ever bear.

No condemnation! precious word!
Consider it, my soul;

Thy sins were all on Jesus laid,

His stripes have made thee whole.

Teach us, O God, to fix our eyes
On Christ, the spotless Lamb,
So shall we love thy gracious will,
And glorify thy name.

!

COMFORT to the dreary;
O! joy to the opprest;-
Come unto me, ye weary,
And I will give you rest.

40

O come in all

your weakness,

Ye sons of guilt and woe;
And learn of him with meekness,
Who stoop'd for us so low.
Ye slaves of servile error,
Wearied with fruitless pains,
Whose faith is doubt and terror,
Believe, and lose your chains.
Renounce the superstition

To Christ's light yoke preferr'd;
And turn from vain tradition
To his redeeming word.

Ye who the world have courted,
And suffer'd from its spite;
Ye who with sin have sported,
And felt its serpent-bite;
Come learn, your follies quitting,
That this world's gain is loss;
To his mild rule submitting,
Who bare for you the cross.
O come, and make the trial;
His service is release.
If hard the self-denial,
Its fruit is joy and peace.
His
grace, your souls defending,
Shall nerve you for the strife :
Peace all your steps attending;
The prize, immortal life.

W

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.