Part 39 (1/2)

Hymn 2:84.

The same.

1 Come, all harmonious tongues, Your n.o.blest music bring, 'Tis Christ the everlasting G.o.d, And Christ the man we sing.

2 Tell how he took our flesh To take away our guilt, Sing the dear drops of sacred blood That h.e.l.lish monsters spilt.

3 [Alas, the cruel spear Went deep into his side, And the rich flood of purple gore Their murderous weapons dy'd.]

4 [The waves of swelling grief Did o'er his bosom roll, And mountains of almighty wrath Lay heavy on his soul.]

5 Down to the shades of death He bow'd his awful head, Yet he arose to live and reign When death itself is dead.

6 No more the b.l.o.o.d.y spear, The cross and nails no more; For h.e.l.l itself shakes at his Name, And all the heavens adore.

7 There the Redeemer sits High on the Father's throne; The Father lays his vengeance by, And smiles upon his Son.

8 There his full glories s.h.i.+ne With uncreated rays, And bless his saints' and angels' eyes To everlasting days.

Hymn 2:85.

Sufficiency of pardon.

1 Why does your face, ye humble souls, Those mournful colours wear?

What doubts are these that waste your faith, And nourish your despair?

2 What tho' your numerous sins exceed The stars that fill the skies, And aiming at th' eternal throne, Like pointed mountains rise?

3 What tho' your mighty guilt beyond The wide creation swell, And has its curs'd foundations laid Low as the deeps of h.e.l.l?

4 See here an endless ocean flows Of never-failing grace, Behold a dying Saviour's veins The sacred flood increase:

5 It rises high and drowns the hills, 'T has neither sh.o.r.e nor bound: Nor if we search to find our sins, Our sins can ne'er be found.

6 Awake, our hearts, adore the grace That buries all our faults, And pardoning blood that swells above Our follies and our thoughts.

Hymn 2:86.

Freedom from sin and misery in heaven.

1 Our sins, alas, how strong they be!

And like a violent sea They break our duty, Lord, to thee, And hurry us away.

2 The waves of trouble how they rise!

How loud the tempests roar!

But death shall land our weary souls Safe on the heavenly sh.o.r.e.

3 There to fulfil his sweet commands Our speedy feet shall move, No sin shall clog our winged zeal, Or cool our burning love.

4 There shall we sit, and sing, and tell The wonders of his grace, Till heavenly raptures fire our hearts, And smile in every face.