THE LAMB OF GOD.

LAMB goes uncomplaining forth,
The guilt of all men bearing,
Laden with all the sin of earth,

None else the burden sharing!

Goes patient on, grows weak and faint,
To slaughter led without complaint,

That spotless life to offer;

Bears shame and stripes and wounds and death, Anguish and mockery; and saith,

"Willingly all this I suffer."

That Lamb is lord of death and life,

God over all forever;

The Father's Son, whom to that strife

Love doth for us deliver!

O mighty Love! what hast thou done!

The Father offers up his Son

The Son content descendeth!

O Love, O Love, how strong art Thou!
In shroud and grave Thou lay'st Him low
Whose word the mountains rendeth!

Him on the Cross, O Love, thou layest,

Fast to that torture nailing,

Him as a spotless Lamb thou slayest;
His heart and flesh are failing-
The body, with that crimson flood,
That precious tide of noble blood,

The heart with anguish breaking!
O Lamb! what shall I render Thee
For all Thy tender love to me,
Or what return be making?

My life-long days would I still Thee
Be steadfastly beholding;

Thee ever, as Thou ever me,

With loving arms enfolding.

And when my heart grows faint and chill,

My heart's undying Light, oh still

Abide unchanged before me!

Myself Thy heritage I sign,
Ransom'd to be forever thine,

My only hope and glory.

I of Thy majesty and grace
Would night and day be singing;

A sacrifice of joy and praise
Myself to Thee still bringing;

My stream of life shall flow to Thee,
Its steadfast current ceaselessly

In praise to Thee outpouring;
And all the good Thou dost to me
I'll treasure in my memory,

Deep in my heart's depths storing.

Gate of my heart, fly open wide
Shrine of my heart spread forth;

The treasure will in thee abide,

Greater than heaven and earth.

Away with all this poor world's treasures, And all this vain world's tasteless pleasures, My treasure is in heaven;

For I have found true riches now,

My treasure, Christ, my Lord, art Thou,—

Thy blood so freely given !

This treasure ever I employ,
This ever aid shall yield me;

In sorrow it shall be my joy,
In conflict it shall shield me;

In joy the music of my feast,
And when all else has lost its zest,
This manna still shall feed me;

In thirst my drink, in want my food,

My company in solitude,

To comfort and to lead me!

Death's poison cannot harm me now,
Thy blood new life bestowing;
My shadow from the heat art Thou,
When the noontide is glowing.
And when by inward grief oppress'd,
My aching heart in Thee shall rest,
As a tired head on the pillow.
Should storms of persecution toss,
Firm anchor'd by the saving Cross,
My bark rests on the billow!

And when at last Thou leadest me
Into Thy joy and light,

Thy blood shall clothe me royally,
Making my garments white;

Shall place upon my head the crown,
Shall lead me to the Father's throne,
And raiment fit provide me;

Till I, by Him to Thee betrothed,
By Thee in bridal costume clothed,

Stand as a bride beside Thee!

PAUL GERHARD.

GETHSEMANE.

ITHIN the olive shade,

The Saviour see,

As there He knelt and prayed,
My soul, for thee;

While cold and damp midnight,

Pale moon and dim starlight,

Behold thy strange, sad sight,
Gethsemane!

Even the faithful fail

Vigils to keep;

They sink behind the veil

Of weary sleep.

Jesus is left alone,

Bowed on dank earth and stone,

And thou dost hear His moan,

Gethsemane!

Why is my Saviour there

In tears and cries?

Under a burdening prayer,

In groans and sighs?

While sorrow's dread control

O'erwhelms His holy soul,