As near to Calvary I pass,
Methinks I see a bloody cross,
Where a poor victim hangs,
His flesh with rugged irons tore,
> His limbs all dress'd in purple gore,
Gasping in dying pangs.
2. Surpris'd the spectacle to see,
I ask'd, who can this victim be,
In such exquisite pain?
Why thus consigned to woes, I cried,
"Tis I," the bleeding God replied,
"To save a world from sin."
3. A God for rebel mortal dies;
How can it be? my soul replies,
What! Jesus die for me?
"Yes," saith the suffering son of God,
"I give my life, I spill my blood,
For thee, poor soul, for thee."
4. Lord, since thy life thou'st freely giv'n,
To bring my wretched soul to heav'n,
And bless me with thy love,
Then at thy feet, O God, I'll fall,
Give thee my life, my soul, my all,
To reign with thee above.
HYMN 10. P. M.
This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of wo,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow-
There's nothing true but heaven.
2. Poor wanderers of a stormy day
From wave to wave are driven,
And fancy's flash and reason's ray,
Serve but to light us on the way--
There's nothing calm but heaven.
3, And false the light on glory's plume,
As fading hues at even,
And genius' bud, and beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gather'd for the tomb-
There's nothing bright but heaven.
4. And where's the hand held out to cheer
The heart with anguish riven?
For sorow's sigh and trouble's tear
Have never found a refuge here-
There's nothing kind but heaven.
5. In vain do mortals sigh for bliss,
Without their sins forgiven;
True pleasure, everlasting peace,
Are only found in God's free grace,-
There's nothing good but heaven.
6. From such as walk in wisdom's road, Corroding fears are driven;
They'er wash'd in Christ's atoning blood, Enjoy communion with their God,
And find their way to heaven.
HYMN 11. P. M.
There is an hour of peaceful rest
To mournful wanderers given,
There is a tear for souls distrest,
A balm for every wounded breast;
"Tis found above in heaven.
2. There is a soft, a downy bed
'Tis fair as breath of even,
A couch for weary mortals spread,
Where they may rest their aching head,
And find repose in heaven.
3. There is a home for weeping souls
By sin and sorrow driven,
When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals,
Where storms arise and oceans roll,
And all is drear but heaven.
4. There faith lifts up a tearful eye,
The heart with anguish riven,
And views the tempest passing by,
The evening shadows quickly fly,
And all serene in heaven.
5. There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,
And joys supreme are given;
There rays divine disperse the gloom,
Beyond the confines of the tomb
Appears the dawn of heaven.
6. Where all the saints immortal sing,
And crowns of joy are given,
While all the harpers cheerful bring
Their noblest songs to Christ their King,
When swallow'd up in heaven.
HYMN 12. P. M.
Jesus, grant us all a blessing,
Send it down, Lord, from above;
May we all go home a praying,
And rejoicing in thy love;
Farewell brethren, fare well sisters,
Till we all shall meet again.
2. Jesus, pardon. all our follies,
Since together we have been,
Make us humble, make us holy,
Cleanse us all from every sin.
Farewell brethren, farewell sisters,
Till we all shall meet again.
3. May thy blessing, Lord, go with us, To each one's respective home, And the presence of our Jesus
Rest upon us every one. Farewell brethren, farewell sisters,
Till we all shall meet again.
HYMN 13. P. M.
Dark and thorny is the desert
Through which pilgrims make their
Yet beyond this vale of sorrow
Lie the fields of endless day;
Fiends loud howling through the desert,
Make them tremble as they go,
And the fiery darts of Satan
Often bring their courage low.
2. O young soldiers, are you weary
Of the roughness of the way?
Does your strength begin to fail you,
And your vigor to decay?
Jesus, Jesus will go with you,
He will lead you to his throne;
He who dyed his garments for you,
And the wine press trod alone.
3. He whose thunder shakes creation, He who bids the planets roll; He who rides upon the tempest,
And whose sceptre sways the whole; Ronnd him are ten thousand angels, Ready to obey command,
They are always hovering round you,
Till you reach the heavenly land.
4. There on flow'ry hills of pleasure,
Lie the fields of endless rest;
Love and joy and peace forever,
Reign and triumph in your breast.
Who can paint the scenes of glory
Where the ransomed dwell on high?
There on golden harps, forever
Sound redeemption through the sky.
5. There's a million flaming seraphs
Who fly across the heav'nly plain,
There they sing immortal praises,
Glory, glory is their strain.
But methinks a sweeter concert
Makes the heavenly arches ring,
And the song is heard in Zion,
Which the angels cannot sing.
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