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O, by all thy pains and wo,
Suffer'd once for man below,
Bending from thy throne on high,

Hear our solemn litany.
2 By thy birth and early years,

By thy human griefs and fears,
By thy fasting and distress
In the lonely wilderness:
By thy vict’ry in the hour
of the subtle tempter's pow'r;
Jesus, look with pitying eye;
Hear our solemn litany.
3 By thine hour of dark despair,

By thine agony of pray'r,
By the purple robe of scorn,
By thy wounds—thy crown of thorn;
By thy cross—thy pangs and cries;
By thy perfect sacrifice;
Jesus, look with pitying eye;

Hear our solemn litany.
4 By thy deep expiring groan,

By the seal'd sepulchral stone,
By thy triumph o'er the grave,
By thy pow'r from death to save;
Mighty God, ascended Lord,
To thy throne in heav'n restor’d,
Prince and Saviour, hear our cry,
Hear our solemn litany.

HYMN 57. 1 MY God, permit me not to be

A stranger to myself and thee:
Amidst a thousand thoughts I rove,

Forgetful of my highest love.
2 Why should my passions mix with earth,

And thus debase my heav'nly birth?
Why should I cleave to things below,

And all my purest joys forego ?
3 Call me away from Nesh and sense ;

Thy grace, O Lord, can draw me thence:
I would obey the voice divine,
And all inferior joys resign.

IIYMN 58.
I ALAS, what hourly dangers rise!

What snares beset my way!
To heaven, O let me lift mine eyes,

And hourly watch and pray.

(L. M.)

(C. M.)

2 How oft my mournful thoughts complain,

And melt in flowing tears!
My weak resistance, ah, how vain!

How strong my foes and fears ! 3 O gracious God, in whom I live,

My feeble efforts aid;
Help me to watcil, and pray, and strive,

Though trembling and afraid.
4 Increase my faith, increase my hope,

When foes and fears prevail; And bear my fainting spirit up,

Or soon my strength will fai).
5 Whene'er temptations fright my heart,

Or lure my feet aside,
My God, thy powerful aid impart,

My guardian and my guide.
6 O keep me in thy heav'nly way,

And bid the tempter flee; And let me never, never, stray

From happiness and thee.

(C. M.)

HYMN 592 1 HOW oft, alas ! this wretched heart

Has wander'd from the Lord! How oft my roving thoughts depart,

Forgetful of his word ! 2 Yet sov’reign mercy calls, “ Return;"

Dear Lord, and may I come? My vile ingratitude I mourn;

0, take the wand'rer home. 3 And canst thou, wilt thou yet forgive,

And bid my crimes remove ? And shall a pardon'd rebel live

To speak thy wond'rous love ?
4 Almighty grace, thy healing power,

How glorious, how divine !
That can to life and bliss restore

So vile a heart as mine.
5 Thy pard’ning love, so free, so sweeta

Dear Saviour, I adore;
O keep me at thy sacred feet,
And let me rove no more.

HYMN 60.
10 THOU, to whose all searching sight

The darkness shineth as the light,

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Search, prove my heart; it looks to thee,

O burst its bonds, and set it free!
2 Wash out its stains, remove its dross,

Bind my affections to the cross ;
Hallow each thought, let all within

Be clean, as thou, my Lord, art clean. 3 If in this darksome wild I stray,

Be thou my light, be thou my way;
No fues, no violence I fear,

No harm, while thou, my God, art near, 4 When rising floods my soul o'erflow,

When sinks my heart in waves of wo,
Jesus, thy timely aid impart,

And raise my head, and cheer my heart. 5 Saviour! where'er thy steps I see,

Dauntless, untir'd, I follow thee:
O let thy hand support me still,
And lead me to thy holy hill.

(See Hymns on Repentance.) PASSION WEEK, AND GOOD FRIDAY HYMN 61.

(IIL 4.) Isaiah lxiii. 1-4. 1 WHO is this that comes from Edom,

All his raiment stain'd with blood, To the captive speaking freedom,

Bringing and bestowing good; Glorious in the garb he wears,

Glorious in the spoil he bears ? 2 'Tis the Saviour, now victorious,

Trav’ling onward in his might; 'Tis the Saviour, O how glorious

To his people is the sight! Satan conquer'd, and the grave,

Jesus now is strong to save. 3 Why that blood his raiment staining ?

'Tis the blood of many slain; Of his foes there's none remaining,

None, the contest to maintain: Fall’n they are, no more to rise,

All their glory prostrate lies. 4 Mighty Victor, reign for ever,

Wear the crown so dearly won ! Never shall thy people, never,

Cease to sing what thou hast done! Thou hast fought thy people's foes; Thou hast heal'd thy people's woes!

HYMN 62.

(L. M.) 1 WHEN I survey the wond'rous cross

On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss,

Aud pour contempt on all my pride, 8 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the cross of Christ my God: All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to thy blood. 3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down; Did e'er such love and sorrow meet?

Or thorns compose a Saviour's crown? 4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a tribute far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my life, my soul, my all. HYMN 63.

(C. M.) 1 BEHOLD the Saviour of mankind

Nail'd to the shameful tree;
How vast the love that him inclin'd

To bleed and die for me!
2 Hark, how he groans ! while nature shakes.

And earth's strong pillars bend ! The temple's veil in sunder breaks,

The solid marbles rend. 3 'Tis done! the precious ransom's paid;

• Receive my soul !” he cries; See where 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!
HYMN 64.

(C. M) 1 MY Saviour hanging on the tree,

In agonies and blood,
Methought once turn’d his eyes on me,

As near his cross I stood.
2 Sure, never till my latest breath

Can I forget that look ;
It seem'd to charge me with his death,

Though not a word he spoke.
3 My conscience felt and own'd the guilt

And plung'd me in despair;

I saw my sins his blood had spilt,

And help'd to nail him there. 4 Alas! I knew not what I did;

But now my tears are vain;
Where shall my trembling soul be hid ?

For I the Lord have slain.
5 A second look he gave, which said,

" I freely all forgive; 6 This blood is for thy ransom paid,

“ I die that thou may’st live.”
6 Thus, while his death my sin displays

In all its blackest hue,
(Such is the mystery of grace,)
It seals my pardon too.
HYMN 65.

(C. M.) 1 FROM whence these direful omens round,

Which heav'n and earth amaze? Wherefore do earthquakes cleave the ground ?

Why hides the sun his rays ?
2 Wel: may the earth astonish'd shake,

And nature sympathize!
The sun as darkest night be black !

Their Maker, Jesus, dies !
3 Behold, fast streaming from the tree,

His all-atoning blood !
Is this the Infinite ? 'tis he,

My Saviour and my God!
4 For me these pangs his soul assail,

For me this death is berne;
My sins gave sharpness to the nail,

And pointed ev'ry thorn.
6 Let sin no more my soul enslave,

Break, Lord, its tyrant chain;
O save me, whom thou cam'st to save,
Nor bleed, nor die in vain !
HYMN 66.

(L M.) St. John xix. 30. 1 'TIS finish'd-so the Saviour cried,

And meekly bow'd his head and died; 'Tis finish'1-yes, the work is done,

The battle fought, the vict'ry won.
2 'Tis finish'd-all that heav'n decreed,

And all the ancient prophets said,
Is now fulfill'd, as long designd,
In me, the Saviour of mankind.

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