The sinner's hope let men deride: For this we count the world but loss. 2 Inscribed upon the cross we see In shining letters, God is love: He bears our sins upon the tree: He brings us mercy from above. 3 The cross-it takes our guilt away; It holds our fainting spirit up; It cheers with hope the gloomy day, And sweetens every bitter cup. 4 It makes the coward spirit brave,

And nerves the feeble arm for fight; It takes its terror from the grave,

And gilds the bed of death with light. 5 The balm of life, the cure of woe,

The measure and the pledge of love, The sinner's refuge here below,

101

The angels' theme in heaven above.

L. M.

HEN I survey the wondrous cross

Won which the Prince of glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 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 His 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 so rich a crown?

4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

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SACRED Head surrounded
By crown of piercing thorn!
O bleeding Head, so wounded,
Reviled and put to scorn!
Death's pallid hue comes o'er Thee,
The glow of life decays,
Yet angel-hosts adore Thee,
And tremble as they gaze.

2 I see Thy strength and vigor,
All fading in the strife,
And death with cruel rigor,
Bereaving Thee of life;
O agony and dying!

O love to sinners free!
Jesu, all grace supplying,

Oh, turn Thy face on me.
3 In this, Thy bitter Passion,

Good Shepherd! think of me
With Thy most sweet compassion,
Unworthy though I be:
Beneath Thy cross abiding
Forever would I rest,

In Thy dear love confiding,
And with Thy presence blest.
4 Be near when I am dying;

Oh, show Thy cross to me:
And to my succor flying,
Come, Lord, and set me free.

7.6.

103

These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he, who dies believing,
Dies safely through Thy love.

8.8.7.8.8.7.

T the cross her station keeping

A Stood the mournful mother weeping,
Where He hung, the dying Lord;
For her soul of joy bereaved,
Bowed with anguish deeply grieved,
Felt the sharp and piercing sword.
2 Oh, how sad and sore distressèd
Now was she, that mother blessèd
Of the sole-begotten One;
Deep the woe of her affliction,
When she saw the crucifixion
Of her ever-glorious Son.

3 Who, on Christ's dear mother gazing,
Pierced by anguish so amazing,
Born of woman, would not weep?
Who, on Christ's dear mother thinking,
Such a cup of sorrow drinking,

Would not share her sorrows deep?

4 For His people's sins chastised,
She beheld her Son despised,

Scourged, and crowned with thorns
entwined;

Saw Him then from judgment taken,
And in death by all forsaken,
Till His spirit He resigned.

5 Jesu, may her deep devotion
Stir in me the same emotion,

Fount of love, Redeemer kind:
That my heart fresh ardor gaining,
And a purer love attaining,

104

S

May with Thee acceptance find.

8.7.

WEET the moments, rich in blessing, Which before the cross I spend; Life and health and peace possessing Through the sinner's dying friend. 2 Here I kneel in wonder, viewing

Mercy poured in streams of blood; Precious drops, for pardon suing, Make and plead my peace with God.

3 Truly blessèd is the station,

Low before His cross to lie,
While I see divine compassion
Pleading in His dying eye.

4 Here I find my hope of heaven,
While upon the Lamb I gaze;
Loving much, and much forgiven,
Let my heart o'erflow with praise.
5 Lord, in loving contemplation
Fix my heart and eyes on Thee,
Till I taste Thy full salvation,
And Thine unveiled glories see.

6 For Thy sorrows I adore Thee,
For the griefs that wrought our peace;
Gracious Saviour, I implore Thee,
In my heart Thy love increase.

105

0

L. M.

come and mourn with me awhile, And tarry here the cross beside; Oh come, together let us mourn;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

2 Have we no tears to shed for Him,
While soldiers scoff and Jews deride?
Ah! look how patiently He hangs;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

3 Seven times He spake, seven words of love;
And all three hours His silence cried
For mercy on the souls of men;
Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.

4 O love of God! O sin of man!

In this dread act your strength is tried; And victory remains with love;

For Thou, our Lord, art crucified!

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THE STORY OF THE CROSS.

IN

I.-The Question.

N His own raiment clad,
With His blood dyed;
Women walk sorrowing

By His side.

2 [Heavy that cross to Him,
Weary the weight;

One who will help Him waits
At the gate.

6.4.6.3.