Imágenes de páginas

Let all my youthful sins

Be blotted out by Thee ;
And, for thy wondrous goodness' sake,

think on me.
O keep my soul from death,

Nor put my hope to shame;
For I have plac'd my only trust

my Redeemer's Name.



O LORD, turn not thy face away

From us who lie prostrate,
Lamenting sore our sinful life,

Before thy mercy-gate ;
Which Thou dost open wide to those

That do lament their sin :
Shut not that gate against us, Lord,

But let us enter in.

So come we to thy mercy-gate,

Where mercy doth abound,
Imploring pardon for our sin,

To heal our deadly wound.
O Lord, we need not to repeat

What we do beg and crave ;
For Thou dost know before we ask,

The blessing we would have.
Mercy, good Lord, mercy we ask,

This is the total sum;
For mercy, Lord, is all our suit;

Lord, let thy mercy come!

IN tender mercy, not in wrath,

Rebuke us, gracious God!
Lest, if thy whole displeasure rise,

We faint beneath thy rod.

Touch'd by thy Spirit's quick’ning power,

Our load of guilt we feel ;
The wounds thy Spirit hath unclos’d

0! let that Spirit heal.

Why should our souls distrust thy grace,

Or yield to dread despair ?
Thou wilt fulfil thy promis'd word,

And grant us all our prayer.



GOD of our life, to Thee we call,
Afflicted at thy feet we fall ;
When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not our trembling hearts to fail.

Friend of the friendless and the faint,
Where should we lodge our deep complaint ?
Where but with Thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?

Did ever mourner plead with Thee,
And Thou refuse that mourner's plea ?
Does not the word still fix'd remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain ?

Poor though we be, despis'd, forgot,
Yet God, our God, forgets us not ;
And he is safe, and must succeed,
For whom the Lord youchsafes to plead.

Good Friday.



HARK! the voice of love and mercy

Sounds aloud from Calvary ;
See, it rends the rocks asunder,
Shakes the earth, and veils the sky :

It is finish'd !
Hear the dying Saviour cry.

It is finish'd! 0! what rapture

Do those precious words afford;
Heavenly blessings without measure
Flow to us from Christ the Lord :

It is finish'd !
Saints, the dying words record.

Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,

Loud his triumph to proclaim ;
All on earth, and all in heaven,
Join to praise Immanuel's Name :

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!

NOT all the blood of beasts,

On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the guilty conscience peace,

Or wash away the stain.
But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,

Takes all our sins away ;
A sacrifice of nobler name,

And richer blood than they.
My faith would lay her hand

On that dear head of thine ;
While like a penitent I stand,
And there confess


My soul looks back to see

The burden Thou didst bear,
When hanging on th' accursed tree,

For all our guilt was there.
Believing, we rejoice

To see the curse remove;
We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,

And sing his dying love.


L. M,

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.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the cross of Christ my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to his blood.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingling down ;
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown ?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were an off'ring far too small :
Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all!



SWEET the moments, rich in blessing,

Which before the cross I spend;
Life, and health, and peace possessing

From the sinner's dying Friend:
Here I'll rest for ever viewing

Mercy's streams, in streams of blood;
Precious drops, my soul bedewing,

Plead and seal my peace with God.

Love and grief my heart dividing,

Constant to my latest breath,
Keep me, Lord, in faith abiding,

Life deriving from thy death :
Still in ceaseless contemplation

Fix my heart and eyes on Thee,
Till I taste thy full salvation,

And unveil'd thy glories see.


« AnteriorContinuar »