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Come needy, come guilty,
Come loathsome and bare:
To cleanse souls completely,
70. Admiration of Sovereign Grace. S. M,
GRACE mov'd the triune God,
Lost sinners to redeem;
Thro' grace, I conquer hell,
Grace the good work begins,
And grace completes the same; Grace shall constrain my soul to raise, Hosannas to the Lamb.
From his abounding grace,
Grace is the never-ceasing spring,
And when I meet my Lord,
SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST.
Go forth in spirit, go
To Calvary's holy mount;
See there thy friend between two thieves, Suffering on thy account.
Fall at his cross's foot,
And say, my God and Lord,
Here let me dwell and view those wounds Which life for me procur'd.
Fix on that face thine eye:
Why dost thou backward shrink? What a hase rebel thou hast been To Christ thou now dost think. Fear not, for this is he
Who always loves us first,
And with white robes of righteousness Delights to deck the worst.
Or art thou at a loss
What thou to him shall say Be but sincere, and all thy case Just as it is display.
That heart our Saviour lov'd
Which does not strive to weave
72. Christ Crucified. L. M.
And pour contempt on all my pride.
See from his head, his hands, and feet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
73. Christ's Humiliation. C. M.
WHAT object's this that meets my eyes From out Jerusalem's gate,
Which fills my mind with such surprise As wonders to create?
Who can it be that groans beneath
Is this the man, can this be He
Yes, now I know, 'tis He, 'tis He,
Wrapt in mortality, to die
For crimes that I had done.
O blessed sight, O lovely form!
I'll creep beside him as a worm,
I'll hear his groans, and view his wounds,
I on his breast a place have found
74. Christ the Great Melchisedek. c. M.
Does sound so sweet to me.
O may we ever hear thy voice
In mercy to us speak,
And in our Priest will we rejoice,
Our Jesus shall be still our theme,
Then will we sing more sweet, more loud,
And Jesus be our song.
75. On the Passion.
Gethsemane, the olive press!
(And why so call'd, let christians guess)
Bore all incarnate God could bear,
And squeez'd his heart, and bruis'd his breast,
Ador'd by angels, and obey'd;
But lower now than angels made.