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3 Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in thee I find;

Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,

Heal the sick, and lead the blind :
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity.

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Christ precious to the Believer.

1 JESUS, I love thy charming name;
'Tis music to mine ear;

Fain would I sound it out so loud
That earth and heaven should hear.

2 All my capacious powers can wish
In thee doth richly meet;

Not to mine eyes is light so dear,
Nor friendship half so sweet.

3 Thy grace still dwells upon my heart,
And sheds its fragrance there;
The noblest balm of all its wounds,
The cordial of its care.

4 I'll speak the honors of thy name
With my last laboring breath;

Then, speechless, clasp thee in my arms,
The antidote of death.

511

666. 7 & 6s.

66

GERHARD.

"O sacred Head, now wounded!"

1 O SACRED Head, now wounded!

With grief and shame weighed down;
O sacred brow, surrounded

With thorns, thine only crown!
Once on a throne of glory,
Adorned with light divine,
Now all despised and gory,
I joy to call thee mine.

2 On me, as thou art dying,
O, turn thy pitying eye!
To thee for mercy crying,
Before thy cross I lie.
Thine, thine the bitter passion,
Thy pain is all for me;
Mine, mine the deep transgression,
My sins are all on thee.

3 What language can I borrow,
To thank thee, dearest Friend,
For all this dying sorrow,

Of all my woes the end?
O, can I leave thee ever?
Then do not thou leave me :
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love to thee,

4 Be near when I am dying;

Then close beside me stand; Let me, while faint and sighing, Lean calmly on thy hand:

These eyes new faith receiving,
From thine eye shall not move;
For he who dies believing,

Dies safely in thy love.

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1 ANGEL, roll the stone away!
Death, give up thy mighty prey!
See, he rises from the tomb,
Glowing in immortal bloom.

2 Shout, ye saints, in rapturous song;
Let the notes be sweet and strong;
Hail the Son of God, this morn,
From his sepulchre new born!

3 Christians, dry your flowing tears;
Calm those unbelieving fears;
Doubt no more his power to save;
See his own deserted grave!

4 Powers of heaven, seraphic fires,
Sing, and sweep your sounding lyres;
Sons of men, in joyful strain
Hail your mighty Saviour's reign!

5 Every note with rapture swell,
And the Saviour's triumph tell;
Where, O Death, is now thy sting?
Where thy terrors, vanquished king?

668.

7s. M.

EPISCOPAL COL.

The Resurrection of Jesus.

1 CHRIST, the Lord, is risen to-day,
Sons of men, and angels, say:
Raise your joys and triumphs high!
Sing, ye heavens, and, earth, reply.
2 Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the victory won:
Jesus' agony is o'er,

Darkness veils the earth no more.

3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal;
Christ has burst the gates of hell;
Death in vain forbids him rise,
Christ hath opened paradise.

4 Soar we now where he hath led,
Following our exalted Head;
Made like him, like him we rise;
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

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I know that my Redeemer lives.

1 I KNOW that my Redeemer lives,
What joy the blest assurance gives!
He lives, he lives, who once was dead;
He lives, my everlasting Head!

2 He lives to bless me with his love;
He lives to plead for me above;
He lives my hungry soul to feed;
He lives to help in time of need.

3 He lives, and grants me daily breath;
He lives, and I shall conquer death;
He lives, my mansion to prepare ;
He lives, to bring me safely there.

4 He lives, all glory to his name,-
He lives, my Saviour still the same;
What joy the blest assurance gives,
I know that my Redeemer lives!

670. P. M.

H. WARE, JR.

Easter Hymn.

1 LIFT your glad voices in triumph on high, For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot die. Vain were the terrors that gathered around him, And short the dominion of death and the

grave;

He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound

him,

Resplendent in glory, to live and to save. Loud was the chorus of angels on high, "The Saviour hath risen, and man shall not die."

2 Glory to God, in full anthems of joy;

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The being he gave us death cannot destroy. Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow, If tears were our birthright, and death were our end;

But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,

And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend. Lift, then, your voices in triumph on high, For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die.

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