Hark! with the voice of God he cries,
"Tis finished!" Scorn turns pale-he dies!
For so Redeeming Mercy willed.
All is now at length fulfilled;
Christ has bowed his sacred head,
And seeks the regions of the dead.
As I contemplate the sight,
Shrinks my spirit with affright;
Trembles all the man within,
Conscious of that blackest sin!
Well might heaven its light withdraw!
Well might earth recoil with awe!
Well the temple's veil might rend!
Well the wondering dead ascend,
Startled by the daring deed

Which doomed the Lord of life to bleed!
Whom on Calvary thus I view,
O'twas I-'twas I that slew!

I transpierced him, mocked him, spurned;
such love with hate returned!
Spirit, that canst bid them flow,
Touch the springs of holy woe!
Let mine eyes as fountains be,
Pouring tears incessantly,
Like a deluge, down my cheek!
Break this flinty heart, Oh break!
Mount of wonders! Calvary!
When I fix my gaze on thee,
Adoration sways my soul;
Mysteries round thy summit roll.
Angel's ken can never pierce,
Nor archangel's power disperse.
Who, with garments dyed in bloud,
Victor in that conflict stood,
Which the power of Satan broke,
And released us from his yoke?

40

Who was thus for sinners slain!
Who this ignominious pain
Freely, gladly underwent ?
God, the Lord Omnipotent-.
He who glory's middle throne
Fills the unbegotten Son;
In the plenitude of bliss,
Forming, ruling all that is.
He the guiltless, he the God,
Thus endured his Father's rod;
Whom we chiefly might expect
To renounce us, and reject;

Whose just vengeance might have rushed
Forth on our guilty heads, and crushed.
We against him had rebelled,
We his goodness had repelled;
We his word had disbelieved,
And his Holy Spirit grieved:
Yet for us his throne he left,
Of his royalties bereft,
And in fashion as a man,
Perfected redemption's plan,
Humbled by his creatures so,
Burdened with such matchless woe!
O the patience! O the love!
All our loftiest thoughts above,
Which could thus with sinners bear!
Which could hold them still so dear!
Which could such a ransom give,
That our ruined race might live!
Mount of wonders! 'tis on thee
Mercy can with Truth agree;
Righteousness and Peace can kiss;
Man recover strength and bliss.
Angels view thee with amaze,

Wond'ring more the more they gaze;

Deeper, wishing, still to pry
Into that boundless mystery.
I with angels would adore,

And with them still more and more
Into things desire to look

Thou recordest in thy book,

Fount of grace, which thou hast given,
To reveal the will of Heaven!

On me pour increasing light,

That the length, the breadth, the height,
And the depth, my soul may know-
All thy saints can reach below-
Of that vast, stupendous love,
Human knowledge far above!
Mount of triumph! Calvary !
What effulgence beams from thee?
How my night is turned to day-
How my fears are chased away,-
How my fainting heart
grows bold,

When thy glories I behold!

Yes, redemption is complete!
Trampled 'neath Messiah's feet,
Sin and death for ever lie ;-
He hath won the victory.
And the captor's captive led-
He hath bruised the serpent's head.
Hope, welcome visitant, appears,
Points to thee, and dries my tears;
Faith her station at my side

Takes, from my prison-house to guide
And Charity, supremely fair,
Enters my breast, and nestles there;
Moulding to thy image, Lord,
The heart with holiness abhorred,
And creating all anew,

When thy wondrous grace I view

34

Mount of triumph! what shall now
My firm expectance overthrow?
Is it life, or is it death,

Aught around, above, beneath ?-
Who shall my accuser be,
Lord, if I am found in thee?
Who condemneth ?-thou hast died,
Through thy Godhead crucified;
As the warrior backward steps,
Who on his foe resistless leaps;
That thou from the ravening grave
Might'st be omnipotent to save,
And from that roaring lion's power
Who ever seeketh to devour.
What shall harm me, while I lean
On the cross in spirit seen?
Nought!-Thy strength can never fail
Never shall my foes prevail :

Though in tenfold might they rise,
My soul their utmost rage defies.
When to Calvary I turn,

There I my privilege discern,
And in thy redemption strong,
March triumphantly along:
March rejoicing, for I feel
Thy kind hand my bruises heal,

And a taste at times bestow

Of Heaven's enjoyments here below.
Upward looking, I behold

Paradise its gates unfold;

Where a mansion waits for me,-
Where of life's unfading tree

I the blessed fruit shall share,
And to those living founts repair,

Which, gushing forth at God's right hand,
Flow copious through Immanuel's land.

'Till the hour when over death
Exulting with my latest breath,
Prompt me with this mortal tongue
To thy praise to pour my song,-
Captain of my salvation! Thou

From whom each perfect gift must flow,-
Thou who all this bliss for me
Purchased'st on Calvary!

THERE stood the Patriarch amidst a scene
Of splendour and beatitude; himself
A diadem of glory o'er the whole;

For none but he could comprehend the beauty,
The bliss diffused throughout the universe.
Yet holier beauty, higher bliss he sought,
Of which that universe was but the veil,
Wrought with inexplicable hieroglyphics.
Here then he stood, alone but not forsaken
Of Him, without whose leave a sparrow falls not.
Wide open lay the Book of Deity,

The page was Providence: but none, alas!
Had taught him letters; when he look'd, he wept,
To feel himself forbidden to peruse it.

O for a messenger of mercy now,

Like Philip when he join'd the Eunuch's chariot! O for the privilege to burst upon him,

And shew the blind, the dead, the light of life!'

I hush'd the exclamation, for he seem'd

To hear it; turn'd his head, and look'd all round, As if an eye invisible beheld him,