6 A broken heart, a fount of tears,

Ask, and they will not be denied ;
A broken heart love's cradle is :

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified !

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

Sævo dolorum turbine.
O'ERWHELMED in depths of woc

Upon the Tree of scorn,
Hangs the Redeemer of mankind

With racking anguish torn.

2

See how the nails those hands

And feet so tender rend;
See down His face, and neck, and breast

His sacred Blood descend.

3

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

Around that tree of pain ;
The rocks are rent; the graves are burst;

The veil is rent in twain.

5

The sun withdraws his light;

The midday heavens grow pale ;
The moon, the stars, the universe

Their Maker's death bewail

6

Shall man alone be mute ?

Have we no griefs, or fears?
Come, old and young, come, all mankind,

And bathe those feet in tears.

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.

8

Jesu, all praise to Thee,

Our joy and endless rest;
Be Thou our guide while pilgrims here,
Our crown amid the blest. Amen.

E. Caswall. (tr.*)

IOI.

I

1 BEHOLD the Lamb of God!

Behold, believe, and live;
Behold His all-atoning Blood,

And life receive.

2

Look from Thyself to Him,

Behold Him on the Tree;
What though the eye of faith be dim?

He looks on thee.

3 That meek, that languid eye,

Turns from Himself away ; Invites the trernbling 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

1 RESTING from His work to-day

In the tomb the Saviour lay ;
Still He slept, from Head to Feet
Shrouded in the winding-sheet,
Lying in the rock alone,
Hidden by the sealed stone.

2

Late at even there was seen
Watching long the Magdalene ;
Early, ere the break of day,
Sorrowful she took her way
To the holy garden glade,
Where her buried Lord was laid.

3 So with Thee, till life shall end,

I would solemn vigil spend ;
Let me hew Thee, Lord, a shrine
In this rocky heart of mine;
Where, in pure embalmèd cell,
None but Thou may ever dwell.

4 Myrrh and spices will I bring,

True affection's offering ;
Close the door from sight and sound
Of the busy world around;
And in patient watch remain,
Till my Lord appear again.

T. Whytehead.

103.

THOU, sore oppressid,

The Sabbath rest
In yon still grave art keeping !
All Thy labour now is done,

Past is all Thy weeping!

2

The strife is o’er,

Nought hurts Thee more,
The heart at last hath slumber'd,
That in conflict sore for us

Bore our sins unnumber'd.

3

Thou awful tomb,

Once filled with gloom !
How blessed and how holy
Art thou now, since in the grave

Slept the Saviour lowly !

4

How calm and blest

The dead now rest
Who in the Lord departed !
All their works do follow them,
Yea, they sleep glad-hearted.

H

5

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.

6

O Blessèd Rock!

Soon grant Thy flock
To see Thy Sabbath morning,
Strife and pain will all be past
When that day is dawning. Amen.

V. Strauss. C. Winkworth. (tr.)

104

IN

the tomb behold He lies
Who the dead awaketh :
Christ, our stricken Sacrifice,

Of sweet rest partaketh.
Fear we then no more the gloom

Of Death's narrow dwelling ;
Jesus died ! the wondering tomb

Of His praise is telling.
2 Vainly shall His foes rejoice;

Vainly Death detain Him:
Lazarus heard His wakening voice;

What shall then restrain Him?
What shall bind His conquering arm,

Who the mountains rendeth,
And that He may death disarm,
To the tomb descendeth ?

A. T. Russell.