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C. M. 69

Christ a Pattern for his Followers.
JESUS! thou, in the form of God,

Didst equal honor claim;
Yet, to redeem our guilty souls,

Didst stoop to death and shame!
2 Oh! may that mind in us be formed,

Which shone so bright in thee;
An humble, meek, and lowly mind,

From pride and envy free!
3 To others we would stoop, and learn

To emulate thy love;
So shall we bear thine image here,

And share thy throne above. 70

L. M. MAKE us, by thy transforming grace,

Dear Saviour, daily more like thee! Thy fair example may we trace,

To teach us what we ought to be! 2 Oh, how benevolent, and kind!

How mild !-how ready to forgive! Be this the temper of our mind,

And these the rules by which we live. 3 To do his heavenly Father's will

Was his employment and delight; Humility and holy zeal

Shone through his life divinely bright. 4 But ah! how blind !-how weak we are !

How frail !-how. apt to turn aside! Lord, we depend

upon thy care, And ask thy Spirit for our guide.

C. M. 71

Death of Christ on the Cross.
BEHOLD the Saviour of mankind

Nailed to the shameful tree!
How vast the love that him inclined

To bleed-and die--for me!
2 “My God,” he cries—all nature shakes,

And earth's strong pillars bend !
The temple's vail in sunder breaks-

The solid marbles rend! 3 “'Tis finished—now the ransom's paid

Receive my soul,” he cries;
Behold he bows his sacred head

He bows his head-and dies ! 4 But soon he'll break death's envious chain,

And in full glory shine :
O Lamb of God—was ever pain,

Was ever love like thine! 72

8s, 7 & 4.
HARK! the voice of love and mercy

Sounds aloud from Calvary!
See! it rends the rocks asunder-
Shakes the earth—and vails the sky!

“ It is finished !"-
Hear the dying Saviour cry!
2 “It is finished !"-oh, what pleasure

Do these charming words afford! Heavenly blessings, without measure, Flow to us through Christ the Lord !

“ It is finished!" Saints, the dying words record ! 8 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs ;

Join to sing the pleasing theme:

All in earth and heaven uniting,
Join to praise Immanuel's name:

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!

S. M. 73

The Atonement the only Ground of Pardon. NOT all the blood of beasts,

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

Or wash away the stai 2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,

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

And richer blood than they. 3 My faith would lay her hand

On that dear head of thine, While like a penitent I stand,

And there confess my sin. 4 My soul looks back to see

The burdens thou didst bear, When hanging on the cursed tree,

And hopes her guilt was there. 5 Believing, we rejoice

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

And sing his bleeding love.

C. M. 74

Sufficiency of the Atonement. THERE is a fountain, filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain, in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,

Wash all my sins away.
3 Thou dying Lamb! thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed church of God

Are saved, to sin no more.
4 Since first, by faith, I saw the stream

Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,

And shall be, till I die. 5 And when this feeble, stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave-
Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save.

L. M. 75

Love of Christ.
I WAS a traitor doomed to die,

Bound to endure eternal pains;
When Jesus saw me from on high,

Was moved by love, and broke my chains. 2 Did melting pity stoop so low,

The Lord from heav'n pour out his blood, To save our rebel race from wo,

And be our Advocate with God? 3 Infinite mercy! boundless love!

Stand in amaze, ye rolling skies!
The Son of God, his grace to prove,
Hangs on a tree-and groans—and dies !

7s. 76

Christ the Rock of Ages. ROCK of ages! cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee;

Let the water and the blood,
From thy side, a healing flood,
Be of fear and sin the cure,

Save from wrath, and make me pure. 2 Should my tears forever flow,

Should my zeal no languor know,
This for sin could not atone;
Thou must save and thou alone:
In my hand no price I bring,

Simply to thy cross I cling.
3 While I draw this fleeting breath,

When mine eye-lids close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold thee on thy throne,
Rock of ages! cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee.

L. M. 77

Christ the Physician of the Soul.
DEEP are the wounds which sin has made;

Where shall the sinner find a cure ?
In vain, alas! is nature's aid;

The work exceeds her utmost power. 2 But can no sovereign balm be found?

And is no kind physician nigh,
To ease the pain, and heal the wound,

Ere life and hope forever fly?
3 Yes, there's a great physician near;

Look up, my fainting soul-and live!
See, in his heavenly smiles appear

Such help as nature cannot give ! 4 See, in the Saviour's dying blood,

Life, health, and bliss abundant flow! 'Tis only that dear, sacred flood

Can case thy pain and heal thy wo.

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