Christian, never tremble;
Never be down-cast;
Smite them by the virtue
Of the Lenten fast.
Christian, dost thou hear them,
How they speak thee fair?
"Always fast and vigil?
Always watch and prayer?"
Christian, answer boldly,
"While I breathe I
pray: '
Peace shall follow battle,
Night shall end in day.
"Well I know thy trouble,
O My servant true;
Thou art very weary,
I was weary too;
But that toil shall make thee
Some day all Mine own,
And the end of sorrow
Shall be near My Throne."
NCE more the solemn season calls
A holy fast to keep;
And now within the temple walls
Both priest and people weep.
But vain all outward sign of grief,
And vain the form of prayer,
Unless the heart implore relief,
And penitence be there.
We smite the breast, we weep in vain,
In vain in ashes mourn,
Unless with penitential pain
The smitten soul be torn.
In sorrow true then let us pray
To our offended God,
From us to turn His wrath away
And stay the uplifted rod.
O God, our Judge and Father, deign
To spare the bruised reed;
We pray for time to turn again,
For grace to turn indeed.
Blest Three in One, to Thee we bow;
Vouchsafe us, in Thy love,
To gather from these fasts below
Immortal fruit above.
ORTY days and forty nights
Thou was fasting in the wild;
Forty days and forty nights
Tempted, and yet undefiled.
Sunbeams scorching all the day;
Chilly dew-drops nightly shed;
Prowling beasts about Thy way;
Stones Thy pillow; earth Thy bed.
Shall not we Thy sorrow share,
And from earthly joys abstain,
Fasting with unceasing prayer,
Glad with Thee to suffer pain?
And if Satan, vexing sore,
Flesh or spirit should assail,
Thou, his Vanquisher before,
Grant we may not faint or fail.
So shall we have peace divine;
Holier gladness ours shall be;
Round us, too, shall angels shine,
Such as ministered to Thee.
Keep, O keep us, Saviour dear,
Ever constant by Thy side;
That with Thee we may appear
At th' eternal Eastertide. Amen.
AVE mercy, Lord, on me,
As Thou wert ever kind;
Let me, opprest with loads of guilt,
Thy wonted mercy find.
Wash off my foul offence,
And cleanse me from my sin;
For I confess my crime, and see
How great my guilt has been.
The joy Thy favour gives
Let me again obtain,
And Thy free Spirit's firm support
My fainting soul sustain.
To God the Father, Son,
And Spirit, glory be;
As 'twas, and is, and shall be so
To all eternity. Amen.
ON THE PASSION.
My God, I love Thee; not because
I hope for heaven thereby,
Nor yet because who love Thee not
Must burn eternally.
Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me
Upon the Cross embrace;
For me didst bear the nails, and spear,
And manifold disgrace,
And griefs and torments numberless,
And sweat of agony;
Yea, death itself; and all for me
Who was Thine enemy.
Then why, O blessèd Jesu Christ,
Should I not love Thee well?
Not for the hope of winning heaven,
Nor of escaping hell.
Not with the hope of gaining aught,
Not seeking a reward;
But as Thyself hast lovèd me,
O ever-loving Lord.
So would I love Thee, dearest Lord,
And in Thy praise will sing;
Solely because Thou art my God,
And my Eternal King. Amen.
GLORY be to Jesus,;
Who, in bitter pains,
Poured for me the life-blood
From His sacred veins!
Grace and life eternal
In that Blood I find;
Blest be His compassion
Infinitely kind!
Blest through endless ages
Be the precious stream,
Which from endless torments
Did the world redeem!
Abel's blood for vengeance
Pleaded to the skies;
But the Blood of Jesus
For our pardon cries.
Oft as it is sprinkled
On our guilty hearts,
Satan in confusion
Terror-struck departs;
Oft as earth exulting
Wafts its praise on high,
Angel-hosts rejoicing
Make their glad reply.
Lift ye then your voices;
Swell the mighty flood
Louder still and louder
Praise the precious Blood.
'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.
Which pierced His mother's heart,
As into God the Father's Hands
He bade His soul depart.
Earth hears, and trembling quakes
Around that tree of pain;
The rocks are rent; the graves are burst;
The veil is rent in twain.
The sun withdraws his light;
The mid-day heavens grow pale;
The moon, the stars, the universe
Their Maker's death bewail.
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