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86.

I

Gloria, laus, et honor.
Now

glory, praise, and honour be
To Christ our Heavenly King ;
Who taught young children's loving lips

His Royal Name to sing.

2

“Hosanna! to great David's Son;"

Their tender voices cry :
“Hosanna ! in the worthiest strains

Which angels chant on high:

3

"For ever blessed be our King,

Who cometh in God's Name, .
In meek and lowly human guise,

To bear our sin and shame."

4. With fresh-cut palms, and garments spread,

They strew the Conqueror's way :
But we with holy vows and prayers

Observe the festal day.

5 They bless the Saviour's dying love,

We hail His risen power :
But each, O Lord, is owned of Thee

In mercy's gracious hour.

6 And Thou wilt clothe us all alike

In robes of spotless white;
And we shall bear the Victor's palm

Before Thy throne of light.

G

7. Then glory, praise, and honour be

To Christ, our Saviour King :
Let Jew and Gentile, young and old,
Their grateful tribute bring. Amen.

St. Theodulph. W. E. Green. (tr.

87.

2

1 RIDE on! ride on in majesty!

Hark! all the tribes Hosanna cry;
O Saviour meek, pursue Thy road,
With palms and scattered garments strowed.
Ride on ! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp, ride on to die :
O Christ, Thy triumphs now begin

O’er captived death and conquered sin. 3 Ride on ! ride on in majesty!

The angel armies of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes

To see the approaching Sacrifice. 4 Ride on ! ride on in majesty!

The last and fiercest strife is nigh:
The Father on His sapphire throne

Expects His own anointed Son. 5 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.

Amen.
H. H. Milman.

88.

I

Prone vocem, mens, canoram.
Now, my soul, thy voice upraising,

Sing aloud in mournful strain
Of the sorrows most amazing,
And the agonizing pain,

Which our Saviour,
Sinless bore, for sinners slain.

2

He the ruthless scourge enduring,

Ransom for our sins to pay,
Sinners by His own stripes curing,
Raising those who wounded lay,

Bore our sorrows,
And removed our pains away.

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 ;

Us they fasten
To the cross, and keep us there.

4 When His painful life was ended,

Then 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 Jesu, 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. Amen.

7. Chandler. (tr.)

89.

I

WHEN I survey the wondrous Cross

On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

2

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most

I sacrifice them to His blood.

3 See from His head, His hands, His feet

Sorrow and love flow mingled down !
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my life, my soul, my all.

1. Watts. *

90.
I O THOU, who, through this holy week,

Didst suffer for us all,
The sick to heal, the lost to seek,

To raise up them that fall;

2

We cannot tell the bitter woe

Thy love was pleased to bear;
O Lamb of God, we only know

That all our hopes are there.
3 Thy feet the paths of suffering trod,

Thy hands the victory won;
What shall we render to our God

For all that He hath done?

4 O grant us, Lord, with Thee to die,

With Thee to rise anew;
Grant us the things of earth to fly,
The things of heaven pursue. Amen.

7. M. Neale. *

I

91.
Venit e cælo Mediator alto.
SION'S Daughter, weep no more,
Though thy troubled heart be sore;
He of whom the Psalmist sung,
He who woke the Prophet's tongue,
Christ, the Mediator blest,
Brings thee everlasting rest.
In a garden man became
Heir of sin and death and shame;

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