Puslapio vaizdai
PDF
„ePub“

He tastes her joys, he feels her woes,
And prays that she may spoil her foes,
And ever reign with him.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

OUR Lord is risen from the dead,
Our Jesus is gone up on high;
The powers of hell are captive led,
Dragg'd to the portals of the sky.
There his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chant the solemn lay;
"Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates,
Ye everlasting doors give way."

Loose all your bars of massy light,
And wide unfold th' ethereal scene:
He claims those mansions as his right;
Receive the King of Glory in.

“Who is the King of Glory, Who?"

The Lord that all his foes o'ercame: The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew, And Jesus is the conqu'ror's name.

Lo! his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chant the solemn lay:
"Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates,
Ye everlasting doors give way."

"Who is the King of glory, Who?"
The Lord, of glorious pow'r possess❜d:

H

Leach.

The King of saints and angels too;
God over all, for ever bless'd!

94

SEE Jesus, our deliv'rer, great,
Rising his vict'ry to complete;
How vain the seal and stone!

0 grave, where is thy victory?
Here, here, thy mighty conqu'ror see,
Rising he leaves the tomb.

Awhile he with his fav'rites stay'd,
Strength to their feeble faith convey'd,
Then mounts the starry sky:
The heavens with acclamations ring,
To welcome their triumphant king,
And shout his victory.

Mindful of all thy favors now,
In gratitude we prostrate bow,
Before thy loving face;
Give all assembled in this hour,
To feel thy resurrection's power,
And sing redeeming grace.

Clearly, to ev'ry heart, this day,
The virtues of thy cross display;
Each drooping soul inflame:
Refresh'd, may we unwearied go
Along this wilderness below,
And spread thy glorious fame.

95

UPRISING from the darksome tomb,
See the victorious Jesus come!

The almighty prisoner quits the prison,
And angels tell the Lord is risen,
Angels tell the Lord is risen.

Ye guilty souls who mourn aud grieve,
Hear the glad tidings, hear and live;
God's righteous law is satisfied,
And justice now is on your side:
Justice now is on your side.

Your Surety thus releas'd by God,
Pleads the rich ransom of his blood,
No new demand, no bar remains,
But mercy now triumphant reigns.
Mercy now triumphant reigns.
Believers, hail your rising head,
The first-begotten from the dead;
Your resurrection's sure through his,
To endless life, and boundless bliss:
Endless life and boundless bliss.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

YES, the Redeemer rose,

The Saviour left the dead,

And o'er our hellish foes,

High rais'd his conqu❜ring head; In wild dismay, the guards around, Fall to the ground, and sink away.

Lo! the angelic bands,
In full assembly meet:
To wait his high commands,
And worship at his feet:

Joyful they come, and wing their way,
From realms of day, to Jesus' tomb.

Then back to heav'n they fly,
The joyful news to bear:
Hark! as they soar on high,

What music fills the air!

Their anthems say, "Jesus who bled
"Hath left the dead, he rose to-day.

Ye mortals catch the sound,
Redeem'd by him from hell;
And send the echo round

The globe on which you

dwell:

Transported, cry, "Jesus, who bled,
Hath left the dead, no more to die."

All hail, triumphant Lord!

Who sav'st us by thy blood:

Wide be thy name ador'd,
Thou rising, reigning God:

With thee we rise, with thee we reign, And empires gain beyond the skies. 97

Auburn.

YE humble souls that seek the Lord,

Chase all your fears away;

And bow with pleasure down to see,
The place where Jesus lay.

Thus low the Lord of life was brought;
Such wonders love can do:

Thus cold in death that bosom lay,

Which throbb'd and bled for you.

Now, for a moment vent your grief,
Let tears of sorrow fall,

And whilst you view your murder'd Lord,
Your sins to memory call.

Now dry your tears, and tune your songs,

The Saviour lives again;

Not all the bolts and bars of death
The conqu'ror could detain.

High o'er the angelic bands he rears,
His once dishonour'd head;
And thro' unnumber'd years he reigns,
Who dwelt among the dead.

With joy like his shall every saint,

His empty tomb survey;

Then rise, with his ascending Lord,
To realms of endless day.

98

BEYOND the glitt'ring starry sky,

Far as the eternal hills,

Poland

There, in the boundless worlds of light,

Our dear Redeemer dwells.

« AnkstesnisTęsti »