rose

Christ's dying, rising, and reigning.

Luke 23:27,29,44-46; Mt. 27:50,57; 28:6ff.

He dies! the friend of sinners dies!
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around;
A solemn darkness veils the skies;
A sudden trembling shakes the ground.

Come, saints, and drop a tear or two
For him who groaned beneath your load:
He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood.

Here's love and grief beyond degree,
The Lord of glory dies for men!
But lo! what sudden joys we see;

Hell; or, The vengeance of God.

With holy fear and humble song,
The dreadful God our souls adore;
Rev'rence and awe become the tongue
That speaks the terrors of his power.

Far in the deep where darkness dwells,
The land of horror and despair,
Justice has built a dismal hell,
And laid her stores of vengeance there.

[Eternal plagues, and heavy chains,
Tormenting racks, and fiery coals,
And darts t' inflict immortal pains,
Dyed in the blood of damned souls.]

Jesus our surety and Savior.

1 Pet. 1:18; Gal. 3:13; Rom. 4:25.

Adam, our father and our head,
Transgressed, and justice doomed us dead;
The fiery law speaks all despair:
There's no reprieve nor pardon there.

But, O unutterable grace
The Son of God takes Adam's place;
Down to our world the Savior flies,
Stretches his arms, and bleeds, and dies.

Justice was pleased to bruise the God,
And pay its wrongs with heav'nly blood:
What unknown racks and pangs he bore!

Christ's sufferings and glory.

Now for a tune of lofty praise
To great Jehovah's equal Son!
Awake, my voice, in heav'nly lays
Tell the loud wonders he hath done.

Sing how he left the worlds of light,
And the bright robes he wore above;
How swift and joyful was his flight,
On wings of everlasting love!

[Down to this base, this sinful earth,
He came to raise our nature high;
He came t' atone Almighty wrath;
Jesus, the God, was born to die.]

[Hell and its lions roared around,

The same; or, The martyrs glorified.

Rev. 7:13ff.

"These glorious minds, how bright they shine!
Whence all their white array?
How came they to the happy seats
Of everlasting day?"

From torturing pains to endless joys
On fiery wheels they rode,
And strangely washed their raiment white
In Jesus' dying blood.

Now they approach a spotless God,
And bow before his throne
Their warbling harps and sacred songs
Adore the Holy One.

The unveiled glories of his face

Salvation in the cross.

Here at thy cross, my dying God,
I lay my soul beneath thy love,
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus, nor shall it e'er remove.

Not all that tyrants think or say,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.

Should worlds conspire to drive me thence,
Moveless and firm this heart should lie;
Resolved, (for that's my last defence,)
If I must perish, there to die.

Christ's humiliation, exaltation, and triumph.

Phil. 2:8,9; Mark 15:20,24,29; Col. 2:15.

The mighty frame of glorious grace,
That brightest monument of praise
That e'er the God of love designed,
Employs and fills my lab'ring mind.

Begin, my soul, the heav'nly song,
A burden for an angel's tongue:
When Gabriel sounds these awful things,
He tunes and summons all his stungs.

Proclaim inimitable love:
Jesus, the Lord of worlds above,
Puts off the beams of bright array,

Christ's intercession.

Lift up your eyes to th' heav'nly seats
Where your Redeemer stays;
Kind Intercessor, there he sits,
And loves, and pleads, and prays.

'Twas well, my soul, he died for thee,
And shed his vital blood;
Appeased stern justice on the tree,
And then arose to God.

Petitions now, and praise may rise,
And saints their off'rings bring;
The Priest, with his own sacrifice,
Presents them to the King.

[Let papists trust what names they please,

A lovely carriage.

Matt. 10:16.

O 'tis a lovely thing to see
A man of prudent heart,
Whose thoughts, and lips, and life agree
To act a useful part.

When envy, strife, and wars begin
In little angry souls,
Mark how the sons of peace come in,
And quench the kindling coals.

Their minds are humble, mild, and meek,
Nor let their fury rise;
Nor passion moves their lips to speak,
Nor pride exalts their eyes.

Their frame is prudence mixed with love,

The Christian's hidden life.

Col. 3:3.

O happy soul that lives on high
While men lie grov'lling here
His hopes are fixed above the sky,
And faith forbids his fear.

His conscience knows no secret stings,
While peace and joy combine
To form a life whose holy springs
Are hidden and divine.

He waits in secret on his God,
His God in secret sees;
Let earth be all in arms abroad,
He dwells in heav'nly peace.

His pleasures rise from things unseen,