1 My dear Redeemer, and my Lord
I read my duty in thy word:
But in thy life the law appears,
Drawn out in living characters.
2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal,
Such deference to thy Father's will,
Such love, and meekness so divine,
I would transcribe, and make them mine.
3 Cold mountains, and the midnight air,
Witnessed the fervor of thy prayer,
The desert thy temptations knew,
Thy conflict, and thy victory, too.
4 Be thou my pattern; may I bear
More of thy gracious image here;
Then God, the Judge, shall own my name
Among the followers of the Lamb.
1 BEHOLD, where, in a mortal form,
Appears each grace divine;
The virtues, all in Jesus met,
With mildest radiance shine.
2 To spread the rays of heavenly light,
To give the mourner joy,
To preach glad tidings to the poor,
Was his divine employ.
3 'Midst keen reproach and cruel scorn,
Patient and meek he stood;
His foes, ungrateful, sought his life.
He labored for their good.
4 In the last hour of deep distress,
Before his Father's throne,
With soul resigned, he bowed, and said
Thy will, not mine, be done!"
5 Be Christ our pattern and our guide:
His image may we bear!
O, may we tread his holy steps,
His joy and glory share!
C. P. M.
Excellency of Christ.
1 O, COULD we speak the matchless worth,
O, could we sound the glories forth,
Which in our Saviour shine,
We'd soar, and touch the heavenly strings,
And vie with Gabriel, while he sings,
In notes almost divine.
2 We'd sing the characters he bears,
And all the forms of love he wears,
Exalted on his throne:
In loftiest songs of sweetest praise,
We would, to everlasting days,
Make all his glories known.
3 0, the delightful day will come,
When Christ our Lord will bring us home
And we shall see his face;
Then, with our Saviour, Brother, Friend,
A blest eternity we'll spend,
Triumphant in his grace.
Christ's Submission to his Father's Will.
1 "FATHER divine," the Saviour cried,
While horrors pressed on every side,
And prostrate on the ground he lay,
"Remove this bitter cup away.
2 " But if these pangs must still be borne
Or helpless man be left forlorn,
1 bow my soul before thy throne,
And say, Thy will, not mine, be done."
3 Thus our submissive souls would bow,
And, taught by Jesus, lie as low;
Our hearts, and not our lips alone,
Would say, Thy will, not ours, be done.
4 Then, though like him in dust we lie,
We'll view the blissful moment nigh,
Which, from our portion in his pains,
Calls to the joy in which he reigns.
"Greater love hath no man than this."
1"SEE how he loved!" exclaimed the Jews,
As tender tears from Jesus fell;
My grateful heart the thought pursues,
And on the theme delights to dwell.
2 See how he loved, who travelled on,
Teaching the doctrine from the skies;
Who bade disease and pain be gone,
And called the sleeping dead to rise.
3 See how he loved, who never shrank
From toil or danger, pain or death;
Who all the cup of sorrow drank,
And meekly yielded up his breath.
4 Such love can we unmoved survey?
O may our breasts with ardor glow,
To tread his steps, his laws obey,
And thus our warm affections show.
"I am the Way, the Truth and the Life."
1 THOU art the Way-and he who sighs
Amid this starless waste of woe
To find a pathway to the skies,
A light from heaven's eternal glow-
By thee must come, thou Gate of love,
Through which the saints undoubting trod.
Till faith discovers, like the dove,
An ark, a resting-place in God.
2 Thou art the Truth-whose steady day Shines on through earthly blight and bloom, The pure, the everlasting ray,
The lamp that shines e'en in the tomb;
The light that out of darkness springs,
And guideth those that blindly go;
The word whose precious radiance flings
Its lustre upon all below.
3 Thou art the Life-the blessed well,
With living waters gushing o'er,
Which those that drink shall ever dwell
Where sin and thirst are known no more.
Thou art the mystic pillar given,
Our lamp by night, our light by day;
Thou art the sacred bread from heaven;
Thou art the Life-the Truth-the Way.
L. M. 61.
Christ All and in All.
1 JESUS, thou source of calm repose,
All fulness dwells in thee divine;
Our strength, to quell the proudest foes;
Our light, in deepest gloom to shine;
Thou art our fortress, strength, and tower,
Our trust and portion, evermore.
2 Jesus, our Comforter thou art;
Our rest in toil, our ease in pain;
The balm to heal each broken heart,
In storms our peace, in loss our gain;
Our joy, beneath the worldling's frown;
In shame our glory and our crown;—
3 In want our plentiful supply;
In weakness, our almighty power;
In bonds, our perfect liberty;
Our refuge in temptation's hour;
Our comfort, 'midst all grief and thrall;
Our life in death; our all in all.
Christ the Resting-Place.
1 JESUS! delightful, charming name!
It spreads a fragrance round;
Justice and mercy, truth and peace,
In union here are found.
2 He is our life, our joy, our strength;
In him all glories meet;
He is a shade above our heads,
A light to guide our feet.
3 When storms arise and tempests blow
He speaks the stilling word;
The threatening billows cease to flow,
The winds obey their Lord.
4 The thickest clouds are soon dispersed,
If Jesus shows his face;
To weary, heavy-laden souls
He is the resting-place.
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