162

3

4

BOUND upon the accursed tree,

75, 10 lines.

Faint and bleeding, who is He?
By the eyes so pale and dim,
Streaming blood and writhing limb,
By the flesh with scourges torn,
By the crown of twisted thorn,
By the side so deeply pierced,
By the baffled, burning thirst,
By the drooping, death-dewed brow;
Son of Man! 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

2 Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?
By the sun at noonday pale,
Shivering rocks and rending veil,
By earth that trembles at His doom,
By yonder saints that burst their tomb,
By Eden, promised ere He died
To the felon at His side;

Lord our suppliant knees we bow;
Son of God, 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

Bound upon the accursed tree,
Sad and dying, who is He?

By the last and bitter cry,
The ghost given up in agony;
By the lifeless body laid
In the chamber of the dead;
By the mourners come to weep
Where the bones of Jesus sleep ;
Crucified! we know Thee now;
Son of Man, 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!
Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?

By the prayer for them that slew,

163

"Lord! they know not what they do!"

By the spoiled and empty grave,

By the souls He died to save,
By the conquest He hath won,
By the saints before His throne,
By the rainbow round His brow;
Son of God, 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

(In ordinary use.)

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 Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.

4 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing Thy power to save,

164

C. M.

When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

(The Original.)

THERE is a fountain filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel's veins ;

And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

C. M

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;

And there have I, as vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.

3 Dear dying Lamb! Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.

4 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing Thy power to save,

When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

6 Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared,
Unworthy though I be,

For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me:

7 'Tis strung, and tuned for endless years,
And formed by power divine,

To sound in God the Father's ears,
No other name but Thine.

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MY dying Saviour and my God,

Fountain for guilt and sin,

Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood,

And cleanse and keep me clean.

2 Wash me, and make me thus Thine own;
Wash me, and mine Thou art!

Wash me, but not my feet alone;
My hands, my head, my heart!

C. M.

166

RE

ESTING from His work to-day,
In the tomb the Saviour lay;
Still He slept, from head to feet
Shrouded in the winding sheet,
Lying in the rock alone,
Hidden by the sealed stone.

2 Late at even there was seen
Watching long the Magdalene;
Early, ere the break of day,
Sorrowful she took her way
To the holy garden glade,
Where her buried Lord was laid.

3 So with Thee, till life shall end,
I would solemn vigil spend ;
Let me hew Thee, Lord, a shrine
In this rocky heart of mine,
Where in pure embalméd cell
None but Thee may ever dwell.

4 Myrrh and spices will I bring,
True affection's offering;

Close the door from sight and sound

Of the busy world around;

And in patient watch remain

Till my Lord appear again.

AL

8s & 7s, 6 lines.

LL is over! pain and sorrow,
Human taunts and fiendish spite;
Death shall be despoiled to-morrow
Of the prey he grasps to-night;
Yet, to seal the Victim's doom,
Christ must sleep within the tomb.

167

168

O

2 Fierce and deadly was the anguish,
Which on yonder cross He bore;
How did soul and body languish,

Till the toil of death was o'er!
But that toil, so fierce and dread,
Bruised and crushed the serpent's head.

3 Close and still the cave that holds Him,
While in brief repose He lies;

Deep the slumber that enfolds Him,
Veiled awhile from mortal eyes;

Slumber such as needs must be
After hard-won victory.

4 Now to-night, with plaintive voicing,
Chant His requiem soft and low;
Loftier strains of loud rejoicing
From to-morrow's harps shall flow;
Heaviness endures with night,
Joy is born with morning light.

UR sins, our sorrows, Lord, were laid on Thee;
Thy stripes have healed, Thy bonds have set
us free;

And now Thy toil is o'er; Thy grief and pain
Have passed away; the veil is rent in twain.

2 Now hast Thou laid Thee down in perfect peace Where all the wicked from their troubling cease, Thy tranquil Sabbath in the grave to keep:

Thy Father giveth His Belovéd sleep.

3 Yet in Thy glory, on the throne above, Thou wast abiding ever, Love of love,

Eternal, filling all created things

With Thine own presence, Jesus, King of kings!