1 JESUS, my Advocate above,
My Friend before the throne of love,
If now for me prevails thy prayer,
If now I find thee pleading there,-
2 Do thou the secret wish convey
That prompts my wayward heart to pray;
Hear, and my weak petition join,
Almighty Advocate, to thine.
3 Jesus, my heart's desire obtain,
My earnest suit present, and gain;
My fullness of corruption show;
The knowledge of myself bestow.
4 My sovereign Lord, to thee I cry;
Without thy mercy I must die:
My life, my only heaven thou art ;-
O may I feel thee in my heart!

Charles Wesley.

1 THERE is a house in heaven built,
The temple of the living God,
The tabernacle true, where guilt
Is washed away by precious blood.

2 Long since, our High Priest entered there,
Who knows the frailties of our frame,
Who loves to hear his people's prayer,
And offer to our God the same.

3 The daily ministry he bore,
Till ended the prophetic days;
He opened then the inner door,
To justify the sacred place.
4 Before the ark of ten commands,
On which the mercy-seat is placed,
Presenting his own blood, he stands,
Till Israel's sins are all erased.
R. F. Cottrell

346

101, 336, 592.

1 JESUS, thy blood and righteousness My beauty are, my glorious dress; 'Mid hosts of sin, in these arrayed, My soul shall never be afraid. 2 Lord, I believe thy precious blood, Which, at the mercy-seat of God, Forever doth for sinners plead, Can cleanse my guilty soul indeed. 3 Lord, I believe were sinners more Than sands upon the ocean shore, Thou hast for all a ransom paid, For all a full provision made.

Nicolaus Zinzendorf.

347

SCOTCH, ARR. BY LOWELL MASON.

9:52 2

not made with hands,

1 THOUGH I should seek to wash me clean
In water of the driven snow,
My soul would yet its spots retain,
And sink in conscious guilt and woe.

2 God's law in all its power divine

Condemns my erring soul to death; Declares the foulness of its sin,

And shows the vileness of its worth.

3 There must a Mediator plead

Whom God and man may both embrace, With God for man to intercede,

And offer us the purchased grace.

4 And thus the Son of God is slain
To be this Mediator crowned;
In him, my soul, be cleansed from stain,
In him thy righteouness be found.

Anon.

1349

1394, 518.

1 0 SOLEMN thought! and can it be
The hour of Judgment now is come,
Which soon must fix our destiny,
And seal the sinner's fearful doom?
Yes, it is so; the Judgment hour

Is swiftly hastening to its close;
Then will the Judge, in mighty power,
Descend in vengeance on his foes.

2 He who came down to earth to die,
An offering for the sins of men,
And then ascended up on high,
And will ere long return again,
Is standing now before the ark,

And mercy-seat, and cherubim,
To plead his blood for saints, and make
The last remembrance of their sin.

3 The solemn moment is at hand

When we who have his name confessed,
Each in his lot must singly stand,
And pass the final, searching test.
Jesus! we hope in thee alone;
In mercy now upon us look,
Confess our names before the throne,
And blot our sins from out thy book.
40 blessed Saviour! may we feel

The full importance of this hour.
Inspire our hearts with holy zeal,

And aid us by thy Spirit's power,
That we may, in thy strength, be strong,
And brave the conflict valiantly;
Then, on Mount Zion, join the song,
And swell the notes of victory.

R. F. Cottrell.

1 WITH joy we meditate the grace
Of our High Priest above;
His heart is made of tenderness,
His bosom glows with love.

2 Touched with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;

He knows what sore temptations mean,
For he hath felt the same.

3 He, in the days of feeble flesh,

Poured out his cries and tears;
And in full measure feels afresh
What every member bears.

4 Then let our humble faith address
His mercy and his power;
We shall obtain delivering grace
In the distressing hour.

Isaac Watts.

352

354, 187.

1 BEFORE the throne of God above
Our Intercessor stands;

Pleads for his own with deathless love,
With pierced and bleeding hands.

2 The barren rocks of Calvary
Echoed his dying cries,

When Christ became, as sin for me,
A wondrous Sacrifice.

3 Not yet may

victors' songs

be sung

In realms of endless light,
Not yet the notes of triumph rung
By saints all robed in white.

4 Not yet do pilgrims' weary feet
Find sweet abiding rest;
But when redemption is complete,
We'll dwell among the blest.

L. D. Santee.

354

NATHANIEL D. GOULD.

2 He gives himself, his life, his all,
A sinless Sacrifice.

For man he drains the cup of gall,
For man the victim dies.

3 And now before his Father's face
His precious blood he pleads;
For those who seek the throne of grace
His love still intercedes.

4 He knows the frailties of our frame,
For he has borne our grief;

Our great High Priest once felt the same, And he can send relief.

5 His love will not be satisfied,

Till he in glory see

The faithful ones for whom he died
From sin forever free.

1 COME, let us join our songs of praise
To our ascended Priest;

He entered heaven with all our names
Engraven on his breast.

2 He died to wash our guilt away,
By his atoning blood,

Which now he pleads before the throne,
And brings us near to God.

3 Clothed with our nature still, he knows
The weakness of our frame,
And how to shield us from the foes
Which he himself o'ercame.

4 Nor time, nor distance, e'er shall quench The fervor of his love;

For us he died in kindness here,
For us he lives above.

5 O, may we ne'er forget his grace,
Nor blush to speak his name!
Still may our hearts hold fast his faith,-
Our lips his praise proclaim.

Alexander Pirrie.

357

1.

9 4

20

492, 246, 415.

2 The sprinkled blood is speaking
Forgiveness full and free,
Its wondrous power is breaking
Each bond of guilt for me;
The sprinkled blood's revealing
A Father's smiling face,
The Saviour's love is sealing

Each monument of grace.

3 The sprinkled blood is pleading
Its virtue as my own,
And there my soul is reading
Her title to Thy throne.
The sprinkled blood is owning

The weak one's feeblest plea;
'Mid sighs, and tears, and groaning,
It pleads, O Lord, with thee.

4 0 wondrous power, that seeketh
From sin to set me free!

O precious blood, that speaketh!
Should I not value thee?
The sprinkled blood is shedding
Its fragrance all around,
It gilds the path we're treading,
It makes our joys abound.

Anon.

358
[Tune, Autumn, No. 501,] 8s & 78. D.
1 HAIL, thou once despised Jesus!

Crowned in mockery a king!
Thou didst suffer to release us;

Thou didst free salvation bring.

Hail, thou agonizing Saviour!
Bearer of our sin and shame!
By thy merits we find favor;

Life is given through thy name.

2 Paschal Lamb, by God appointed,
All our sins on thee were laid;
By Almighty Love anointed.
Thou redemption's price hast paid.
All thy people are forgiven

Through the virtue of thy blood;
Opened is the gate of heaven,

Peace is made 'twixt man and God

3 Jesus, hail! enthroned in glory!
There forever to abide;

All the heavenly hosts adore thee,
Seated at thy Father's side:
There for sinners thou art pleading;
There thou dost our place prepare,
Ever for us interceding,

Till in glory we appear.

+ Worship, honor, power, and blessing,
Thou art worthy to receive;
Loudest praises, without ceasing,
Meet it is for us to give;
Help, ye bright angelic spirits,
Bring your sweetest, noblest lays;
Help to sing our Saviour's merits,
Help to chant Immanuel's praise!
John Bakewell.