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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. *

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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

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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.

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