2 How no contrite soul e’er sought him,
  And was bidden to depart;
How, with gentle words he taught him,
  Took the death from out his heart. 
Still I read the ancient story,—­
  And my joy is ever new,—­
How for us he left his glory,
  How he still is kind and true.

3 How the flock he gently leadeth,
  Whom his Father gave him here;
How his arms he widely spreadeth,
  To his heart to draw us near. 
Let me kneel, my Lord! before thee,
  Let my heart in tears o’erflow,
Melted by thy love adore thee,
  Blessed in thee, mid joy or woe.

     Ger., Louisa Hensel, 1829. 
     Tr., Catherine Winkworth, 1858

115 Heber.  C.M.

The Example of Christ. (236)

Behold where, in the Friend of man,
  Appears each grace divine! 
The virtues all in Jesus meet,
  With mildest radiance shine.

2 To spread the rays of heavenly light,
  To give the mourner joy,
To preach glad tidings to the poor,
  Was his divine employ.

3 In the last hour of deep distress,
  Before his Father’s throne,
With soul resigned, he bowed, and said,
  “Thy will, not mine, be done!”

4 Be Christ our pattern and our guide,
  His image may we bear;
Oh, may we tread his sacred steps,
  And his bright glories share.

     William Endfield, 1802.

116 Wonderful Love of Jesus.  P.M.

Christ’s Love.

In vain in high and holy lays
My soul her grateful voice would raise;
For who can sing the worthy praise
Of the wonderful love of Jesus?

Cho.—­Wonderful love! wonderful love! 
        Wonderful love of Jesus! 
      Wonderful love! wonderful love! 
        Wonderful love of Jesus!

2 A joy by day, a peace by night,
In storms a calm, in darkness light;
In pain a balm, in weakness might,
Is the wonderful love of Jesus.

3 My hope for pardon when I call,
My trust for lifting when I fall;
In life, in death, my all in all,
Is the wonderful love of Jesus.

     E.S.  Lorenz.

117 Olive’s Brow.  L.M.

Christ in Gethsemane. (253)

’Tis midnight; and on Olive’s brow
  The star is dimmed that lately shone;
’Tis midnight; in the garden, now,
  The suffering Savior prays alone.

2 ’Tis midnight; and, from all removed,
  The Savior wrestles lone with fears;
E’en that disciple whom he loved
  Heeds not his Master’s grief and tears.

3 ‘Tis midnight; and for others’ guilt
  The man of sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet he that hath in anguish knelt
  Is not forsaken by his God.

4 ’Tis midnight; and from ether plains
  Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
  That sweetly soothe the Savior’s woe.

     W.B.  Tappan, 1822.