Puslapio vaizdai
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Ev'ry sin may be forgiven

Through the virtue of thy blood;
Open'd is the gate of heaven,

Peace is made 'twixt man and God.
Jesus, hail! enthron'd in glory,
There for ever to abide,

All the heavenly hosts adore thee,
Seated at thy Father's side.

There for sinners thou art pleading,

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Spare them yet another year;

Thou for saints art interceding,
Till in glory they appear.

Worship, honour, pow'r, and blessing,
Christ is worthy to receive,
Loudest praises without ceasing
Meet it is for us to give.

Help, ye bright angelic spirits,
Bring your sweetest, noblest lays;
Help to sing your Jesu's merits,
Help to chant Immanuel's praise.

66. Christ's Merits. 8.7.

NOTHING but thy blood, O Jesus,
Can relieve us from our smart,
Nothing else from guilt release us,
Nothing else can melt the heart.
Law and terrors do but harden,
All the while they work alone,
But a sense of blood-bought pardon
Soon dissolves a heart of stone.

Jesus, all our consolations

Flow from thee, the sov'reign good: Love, and faith, and hope, and patience, All are purchas'd by thy blood. From thy fulness we receive them, We have nothing of our own; Freely thou delight'st to give them, To the needy who have none. Teach us by thy patient Spirit, How to mourn, and not despair, Let us, leaning on thy merit, Wrestle hard with God in prayer. Whatsoe'er afflictions seize us, They shall profit, if not please; But defend, defend us, Jesus, From security and ease.

67. Easter. L. M.

HE dies! the Friend of sinners dies!
Lo Salem's daughters weep around;
A solemn darkness veils the skies,
A sudden trembling shakes the ground.
Come, saints, and drop a tear or two
For him who groan'd beneath your load,
He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood.
Here's love and grief beyond degree,
The Lord of glory dies for men!
But lo, what sudden joys we see,
Jesus the dead, revives again!

The rising God forsakes the tomb,
(The tomb in vain forbids his rise)
Cherubic legions guard him home,
And shout him welcome to the skies,
Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell
How high our great Deliv'rer reigns:
Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of hell,
And led the monster death in chains;
Say, "Live for ever, wondrous King!
"Born to redeem! and strong to save;"
Then ask the monster, "Where's thy sting?
And where's thy victory, boasting grave!"

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68. Redemption. L. M.

HE dies, the great Redeemer dies,
All nature feels the piercing groans,
An awful darkness shades the skies,

The rending earth the Saviour owns.
Come all ye saints,-ye sons of God,
View the dear Lamb in dreadful pains;
But see a fountain stream with blood,
And learn where endless pity reigns,
Here is compassion all divine,

The King immortal freely dies;
But, O! behold his glory shine,
And see him all triumphant rise,
See him ascend the dazzling throne,
With all the grandeur of a God;
There the dear Saviour reigns alone,
And shows the wonders of his blood,

Cease from your tears, ye saints, and tell
The great redemption of the Son;
Who nobly conquers death and hell,

And leads to mansions round the throne.

Say, reign for ever, glorious King,
Thee, will we praise for endless grace,
Help us to triumph, shout, and sing,
To all the highest realms of peace.

69. Redemption. 104.

THE fountain of Christ
Assist me to sing,
The blood of our Priest,
Our crucified King;
Which perfectly cleanses
From sin and from filth,
And richly dispenses
Salvation and health.

This fountain so dear
He'll freely impart,
Unlock'd by the spear,

It gush'd from his heart.
With blood, and with water,
The first to atone,
To cleanse us the latter;

The fountain's but one.

This fountain is such,

(As thousands can tell)
The moment we touch
Its streams, we are well.

All waters beside them

Are full of the curse;

For all that have tried them
Swell, rot, and grow worse,
This fountain, sick soul,
Recovers thee quite ;
Bathe here and be whole;
Wash here and be white.
Whatever diseases

Or dangers befal,
The fountain of Jesus
Will rid thee of all.

This fountain from guilt
Not only makes pure,
And gives soon as felt,
Infallible cure;
But, if guilt removed,
Return and remain,
Its power may be proved
Again and again,
This fountain, unseal'd,
Stands open for all
That long to be heal'd,

The great and the small. Here's strength for the weakly,

That hither are led ; Here's health for the sickly; Here's life for the dead.

This fountain, though rich,
From charge is quite clear;

The poorer the wretch,
The welcomer here.

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