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2 Ride on, ride on in majesty!

The angel armies of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes,
To see the approaching Sacrifice.
3 Ride on, ride on in majesty!

Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh :
The Father on his sapphire throno

Awaits His own anointed Son.
4 Ride on, ride on in majesty!

In lowly pomp ride on to die!
Bow Thy meek head to mortal pain,
Then take, O God, Thy power, and reign.

Henry Hart Milman. 1827. a. 167

8, n. 1 SWEET the moments, rich in blessing,

Which before the Cross I spend,
Life, and health, and peace possessing,

From the sinner's dying Friend.
2 Here I rest, forever viewing

Mercy streaming in His Blood;
Precious drops, my soul bedewing,

Plead and claim my peace with God.
3 Truly blessed is this station,

Low before His Cross to lie;
While I see divine compassion

Beaming in His gracious eye.
4 Love and grief my heart dividing,

With my tears His feet I bathe;
Constant still, in faith abiding,

Life deriving from His death.
5 Lord, in ceaseless contemplation,

Fix my thankful heart on Thee,
Till I taste Thy full salvation,
And Thine unveiled glory see.
Walter Shirley. 1760. a.

168 Isaiah 53.

C. M. 1 The Saviour comes ! no outward pomp

Bespeaks His presence nigh;
No earthly beauty shines in Him

To draw the carnal eye.
2 Rejected and despised of men,

Behold a Man of woe!
And grief His close companion still

Through all His life below!
3 Yet all the griefs He felt were ours,

Ours were the woes He bore :
Pangs, not His own, His spotless soul

With bitter anguish tore.
4 We held Him as condemned of heaven,

An outcast from His God;
While for our sins He groaned, he bled,

Beneath His Father's rod.
5 His sacred Blood hath washed our souls

From sin's polluting stain;
His stripes have healed us, and His Death

Revived our souls again.
6 We all, like sheep, had gone astray

In ruin's fatal road :
On Him were our transgressions laid;

He bore the mighty load.
7 He died to bear the guilt of men,

That sin might be forgiven:
He lives to bless them and defend,
And plead their cause in heaven.

William Robertson. d. 1743. 169 1 Hall, Thou once despised Jesus !

Hail, Thou Galilean King !
Thou didst suffer to release us;

Thou didst free salvation bring.


By the dread mysterious hour
of the insulting tempter's power;
Turn, O turn a favoring eye,

Hear our solemn Litany!
3 By Thine hour of dire despair,

By Thine agony of prayer;
By the cross, the nail, the thorn,
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn;
By the gloom that veiled the skies
O'er the dreadful sacrifice;
Listen to our humble cry,

Hear our solemn Litany!
4 By Thy deep expiring groan;

By the sad sennlchral stone:
3 He to liberty restored us

By the very bonds He bare;
And His nail-pierced limbs afford us
Each a stream of mercy rare :

Lo! He draws us
To the Cross, and keeps us there.
4 When His painful life was ended,

When the spear transfixed His side:
Blood and water thence descended,
Pouring forth a double tide:

This to cleanse us,
That to heal us, is applied.
5 Jesus ! may Thy promised blessing

Comfort to our souls afford;
May we, now Thy Love possessing,
And at length our full reward,

Ever praise Thee,
As our ever-glorious Lord !

John Chandler. 1837. a.
Tr. Santolius Maglorianus. ab. 1650.


1179m 0 Haupt voll Blut und Wünden. 19, 6. 1 0 SACRED Head, now wounded,

With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded

With thorns, Thy only crown!
O sacred Head, what glory,

What bliss, till now, was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory,

I joy to call Thee mine.

2 How art Thou pale with anguish,

With sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish,

Which once was bright as morn!
What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered,

Was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,

But Thine the deadly pain.

3 Lo, here I fall, my Saviour!

'Tis I deserve Thy place!
Look on me with Thy favor,

Vouchsafe to me Thy graee.
Receive me, my Redeemer;

My Shepherd, make me Thine!
Of every good the Fountain,

Thou art the Spring of mine!

4 What language shall I borrow

To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end !
O make me Thine for ever,

And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never

Outlive my love to Thee.

5 Forbid that I should leave Thee;

0 Jesus, leave not me;
In faith may I receive Thee,

When death shall set me free.
When strength and comfort languish,

And I must hence depart,
Release me then from anguish
By Thine own wounded heart.

James W. Alexander. 1849. a.
Tr. Paul Gerhårdt. 1659.

From Bernard of Clairvaux. 1153. 178. ..o prey wo yioopo w-uuguu,

C. M.
Yet once more, to seal his doom,
Christ must sleep within the tomb.
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. J Close and still the cell 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 We this night with plaintive voicing

Chant His requiem soft and low; Inftior strains of lond reinicino 1999

S. M.
1 BEHOLD the amazing sight,

The Savior lifted high !
Behold the Son of God's delight
Expire in agony !

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