LET us obey the gospel word,
Haste to the supper of our Lord;
Be wise to know our gracious day,
All things are ready, come away.
Ready our Father is to own,
And welcome back a contrite son:
Ready the loving Saviour stands,
And spreads for us his bleeding hands.
Ready the Spirit of his love,
The stubborn, stony heart to move :
T' apply, and witness with the blood,
And wash, and seal us sons of God.
my Redeemer lives!
What comfort this sweet sentence gives:
He lives, triumphant from the grave;
He lives, omnipotent to save.
He lives, to bless me with his love;
He lives, to plead for me above;
To succour me whene'er I faint,
And soothe my heaviest complaint.
He lives, that he in me may breathe,
And save me from the power of death;
He lives, my mansion to prepare,
And soon to bring me safely there.
He lives, my kind, my faithful Friend,
He lives, and loves me to the end:
He lives, and while he lives, I'll sing
The praises of my heav'nly King.
HYMN 104. L. M.
AND can it be, that I should gain
An int'rest in the Saviour's blood?
Died he for me, who caus'd his pain?
For me, who him to death pursued?
"Tis myst'ry all! Th' Immortal dies!
Who can explore his great design?
In vain the first-born seraph tries
To sound the depths of love divine.
No condemnation now I dread ;
Jesus, and all, in him, is mine!
Alive in him, my living Head,
And cloth'd in righteousness divine.
"CHRIST, the Lord, is ris'n to-day," HalleluSons of men, and angels, say;
Raise your songs, and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heav'ns,-and earth reply.
Love's redeeming work is done, Hal.
Fought the fight, the battle won ;
Lo! our Sun's eclipse is o'er:
Lo! he sets in blood no more.
Vain the stone, the watch, the seal; Hal.
Christ hath burst the gates of hell:
Death in vain forbad to rise;
Christ hath opened paradise.
Lives again our glorious King! Hal.
Where, O Death, is now thy sting?
Once alone he died to save!
Where's thy victory now, O Grave?
HYMN 106. L. M. CROWNS of glory ever bright Rest upon the Victor's head; Crowns of glory are his right, His, who liveth and was dead. Jesus fought, and won the day; Such a day was never fought! Well his people now may say,"See what God, our God, has wrought!" He subdued the pow'rs of hell! In the fight he stood alone! All his foes before him fell,
By his single arm o'erthrown. His the fight, the arduous toil, His the honours of that day: His the glory, and the spoil,-Jesus bears them all away.
"Tis hard, when we are sick and poor,
And they who lov'd us love no more;
When comforts, friends, and health are gone,
To say, "O Lord, thy will be done."
'Tis hard, when they in death are laid,
O'er whom we watched, and wept, and pray'd,
The wife, the parent, or the son,
"O Lord, thy will be done!"
And yet, how light such sorrows be,
To His, in dark Gethsemane !
Who drank the cup, with stifled groan,
And said, "O Lord, thy will be done.'
HYMN 108. L. M.
THE God of Glory dwells on high,
He rules the armies of the sky;
Ten thousand thousand round him stand,
Obedient to their King's command.
The God of Glory, mov'd by love,
Descends in mercy from above;
And He, before whom angels bow,
Is found a man of grief below.
But, tho' his love no measure knows,
The Saviour to his people shews
Enough to give them joy, when known;
Enough to make their hearts his own.
HYMN 109. S. M.
O WHERE shall rest be found,
Rest for the weary soul?
"Twere vain the ocean's depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole.
The world can never give
The bliss, for which we sigh; 'Tis not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die.
Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,
Where Jesus reigns to endless years,
And all that life is love.
HYMN 110. P. M.
WORSHIP the King, all-glorious above! O gratefully sing his unchangeable love;
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of days,
' Pavilioned in splendour, and girded with praise.
Oh, tell of his might,—oh, sing of his grace,—
Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space;
His chariots of wrath the deep thunder-clouds form,
And dark is his path on the wings of the storm.
Thy bountiful care what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light;
It streams from the hills, it descends from the plain,
And sweetly distils in the dew and the rain.
Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail.
Thy mercies how tender! how firm to the end,
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend!
THOU art, O Lord, my only trust
When friends are mingled with the dust,
And all my joys are gone;
When earth has nothing to bestow,
And every flower is dead below,
I look to thee alone.
Thou wilt not leave in doubt and fear
The humble soul, who loves to hear
The lessons of thy word:
When foes around us thickly press,
And all is danger and distress,
There's safety in the Lord.
The bosom-friend may sleep below
The church-yard turf, and we may go
To close a lov'd one's eyes :—
They will not always slumber there;
We see a world more bright and fair,
A home beyond the skies.
|