6 A broken heart, a fount of tears, 7 O Love of God! O sin of man! In this dread act your strength is tried ; And victory remains with love; For He, our Love, is crucified. F. W. Faber.* I 2 3 Savo dolorum turbine. O'ERWHELMED in depths of woe Upon the Tree of scorn, Hangs the Redeemer of mankind With racking anguish torn. See how the nails those hands And feet so tender rend; See down His face, and neck, and breast His sacred Blood descend. Oh, hear that awful cry Which pierced His mother's heart, As into God the Father's hands He bade His soul depart. 4 Earth hears, and trembling quakes The rocks are rent; the graves are burst ; 5 6 The sun withdraws his light; Shall man alone be mute? Have we no griefs, or fears? Come, old and young, come, all mankind, 7 Come, fall before His Cross, Who shed for us His blood; Who died, the Victim of pure love, To make us sons of God. Our joy and endless rest; Be Thou our guide while pilgrims here, Our crown amid the blest. Amen. E. Caswall. (tr.*) I 2 IOI. BEHOLD the Lamb of God! Behold, believe, and live; Look from Thyself to Him, Behold Him on the Tree; What though the eye of faith be dim? 3 That meek, that languid eye, Turns from Himself away; Invites the trembling sinner nigh, And bids him stay. 4 Stay with Him near the Tree, Stay with Him near the Tomb; Stay till the risen Lord you see, Stay "till He come." Easter Eve. 102. I RESTING from His work to-day 2 Late at even there was seen Where her buried Lord was laid. 3 So with Thee, till life shall end, 4 Myrrh and spices will I bring, Close the door from sight and sound And in patient watch remain, Till my Lord appear again. T. Whytehead. 2 3 4 103. THOU, sore oppress'd, The Sabbath rest In yon still grave art keeping! All Thy labour now is done, The strife is o'er, Nought hurts Thee more, The heart at last hath slumber'd, Bore our sins unnumber'd. Thou awful tomb, Once filled with gloom! How blessed and how holy Art thou now, since in the grave How calm and blest The dead now rest H I 5 6 O lead us Thou, To rest e'en now, With all who, sorely anguish'd 'Neath the burden of their sins, Long in woe have languish'd. O Blessèd Rock! Soon grant Thy flock To see Thy Sabbath morning, When that day is dawning. Amen. 104. IN the tomb behold He lies Who the dead awaketh : 2 Vainly shall His foes rejoice; To the tomb descendeth? A. T. Russell. |