And to those hands my soul resign,
Which bear credentials so divine!

WATTS.

96.

(ii, 114.) C. M.

Litchfield. Tolland.

97.

Christ's Death and Dominion.

1 I SING my Savior's wondrous death;
He conquer'd, when He fell;

"'Tis finish'd!" said his dying breath,
And shook the gates of hell.

2 “'Tis finish'd?” our Immanuel cries,
The dreadful work is done!

Hence shall his sov'reign throne arise,
His kingdom is begun.

3 The saints from his propitious eye
Await their several crowns,

And all the sons of darkness fly
The terror of his frowns!

L. M.

WATTS.

Windham. German Hymn.

The Atonement of Christ.

1 "TIS finish'd!"-so the Savior cried,
And meekly bow'd his head, and died!
"Tis finish'd!"-yes, the race is run,—
The battle fought, the vict'ry won.
2 "Tis finish'd!" Aaron now no more
Must stain his robes with purple gore:
The sacred veil is rent in twain,
The Jewish rites no more remain.

3 "Tis finish'd!"-yes, his dying groan
Shall sins of ev'ry kind atone;

Millions shall be redeem'd from death
By Jesus' last, expiring breath.

4 "Tis finish'd!"-Heav'n is reconciled,
And all the pow'rs of darkness spoiled:
Peace, love, and happiness again
Return and dwell with sinful men.

mf 5 "Tis finish'd!"-let the joyful sound
Be heard through all the nations round:
"Tis finish'd!"-let the echo fly

f

Through heav'n and hell,through earth and sky.

STENNETT.

98.

mp

S. M.

A crucified Savior.

Boylston. Fairfield.

1 BEHOLD th' amazing sight,—
The Savior lifted high!

Behold the son of God's delight
Expire in agony!

2 For whom, for whom, my heart,
Were all these sorrows borne?
Why did He feel that piercing smart,
And meet that various scorn?

3 For love of us He bled,

And all in torture died;

'Twas love, that bow'd his fainting head,
And op'd his gushing side.

aff 4 I see, and I adore,

mf

99

f

mf

In sympathy of love;

I feel the strong, attractive pow'r
To lift my soul above.

5 In Thee our hearts unite,

Nor share thy griefs alone,

But from thy cross pursue their flight
To thy triumphant throne!

8,7 & 4.

Death of Christ.

DODDRIDGE.

Sicily. Greenville.

1 HARK! a voice, awaking wonder
'Mongst the angels of the sky,
Voice, that rends the rocks asunder,
Breaking forth from Calvary:
"It is finish'd!"-

Voice, that shakes the earth and sky!
2 "It is finish'd!"-O what pleasure
Do these precious words afford!
Heav'nly blessings without measure
Flow to us from Christ, the Lord:
"It is finish'd!"

Saints, the dying words record!

3 "Finish'd"; all the types are ended
Of the Jewish shad'wy law;

"Finish'd" all, that God intended ;-
Death and hell no more shall awe:
"It is finish'd"!

Saints, from hence your comforts draw.

100. (ii. 76 )

BURDER'S COLL.

C. M. Archdale. Cambridge.

Resurrection and Ascension of Christ.

mf 1 HOSANNA to the Prince of light,
Who cloth'd himself in clay:

From death He rose up in his might,
And tore the bars away.

2 The Conqu❜ror see ascending high,
He wears a glorious crown!
Behold, what mercy in his eye,
What blessings He sends down!

3 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings!
High your sweet voices raise!
Let men and all created things
Sound forth Immanuel's praise!

WATTS,

Sicily. Westborough,

Christ dying and rising.

mp 1 SEE the Lord of life expiring,
While the cross its victim holds!
E'en in death his love, untiring,
Pours a pray'r for blood-stain'd souls.
2 At his wo the sun is shrouded
Mid his journey in the skies:
Lo, the earth, with darkness clouded,
Trembles, as its Maker dies!

mf 3 See the Crucified arising,

Bursting from his rock-hew'd cell,
Now, with triumph, all surprising,
Conqueror of death and hell!

4 See Him up to heav'n ascending,
Great in glory and in might,

Throngs of angels round Him bending,
As He rises up to light!

mp 5 Now for sinful men He's pleading,
Holy Lamb of sacrifice,

Ever for them interceding
With his Father in the skies.

aff 6 Blessed JESUS! to Thee bowing,
We entreat thy pard'ning love!
Bring us to the joys o'erflowing,
In thy presence, Lord, above!

mf

ALLEN.

Pleyel's Hymn. Sharp.

Ascension of Christ.

f 1 ANGELS! roll the rock away!
Death! yield up the mighty prey!
See!-the Savior leaves the tomb,
Glowing with immortal bloom!

2 Shout, ye seraphs! Gabriel, raise
Loudest trump of joyful praise!
Let the earth's remotest bound
Echo to the rapt'rous sound!

3 Now, ye saints, lift up your eyes!
See Him rising to the skies:
King of glory! mount thy throne,
Boundless empire is thine own.

4 Praise Him, ye celestial choirs ;
Praise, and sweep your golden lyres!
Praise Him in the noblest songs
From ten thousand, thousand tongues!

103.

8, 7 & 4.

GIBBONS.

Oliphant. Tamworth.

Resurrection of Christ.

1 HE is ris'n !—Then why, ye weeping,
Linger ye about his tomb?

Here no longer is He sleeping,

He hath gone to heav'n, his home:
He is risen!

Where He dwells, ye too may come!

2 Now for you He's interceding
At the throne of God on high,
He with blood for you is pleading,
Lest for sin your souls should die:
He is pleading;

Why, desponding, should you sigh?

8 Come to Him; in Him believing,
Naught your hope shall overthrow;
Cease, then, all your tears and grieving,
Rather let your joys o'erflow:

Blest Redeemer!

May we all thy mercy know!

aff

104.

(ii, 89.) C. M.

ALLEN.

Nottingham, Christmas.

Christ's Victory.

1 HOSANNA to our conqu❜ring King!
The prince of darkness flies,

And all his hosts, with broken wing,
Fall headlong from the skies.

2 Hosanna to our conqu❜ring King!
All hail, incarnate Love?

Thy praise the faithful angels sing,
And crown thy head above!

3 Thy vict'ries and thy deathless fame
Through the wide world shall run;
Eternal ages shall proclaim
The triumphs, Thou hast won!

105.

f

7s.

WATTS.

Wilson. Blue Town.

Christ's Resurrection.

1 HARK! the herald angels say,
Christ, the Lord, is ris'n to day!
Raise your joys and triumphs high,
Let the glorious tidings fly.

p 2 Love's redeeming work is done!
Th' battle's fought, the vict'ry won!
Lo! the sun's eclipse is o'er;
Lo! he sets in blood no more.

mf

mf

3 Vain the stone, the seal, the guard!
Christ the gloomy gates unbarr'd:
Death in vain forbids his rise;
Christ has open'd paradise.

4 Lives again our glorious King!
"Where, O death! is now thy sting?
Once He died our souls to save;
"Where's thy vict'ry, boasting grave?"

CUDWORTH'S COLL.