118 Windham.  L.M.

"Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?" (256)

From Calvary a cry was heard—­
  A bitter and heart-rending cry;
My Savior! ev’ry mournful word
  Bespoke thy soul’s deep agony

2 A horror of great darkness fell
  On thee, thou spotless holy One! 
And all the eager hosts of hell
  Conspired to tempt God’s only Son.

3 The scourge, the thorns, the deep disgrace,
  These thou could’st bear, nor once repine;
But when Jehovah veiled his face,
  Unutterable pangs were thine.

4 Let the dumb world its silence break;
  Let pealing anthems rend the sky;
Awake, my sluggish soul, awake! 
  He died that we might never die.

     John W. Cunningham, 1820.

119 Zephyr.  L.M.

Consecration in View of the Cross. (261)

When I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

4 Were all the realms of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine. 
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

     Isaac Watts, 1707.

120 Miriam, 7s & 6s.  Double.

     (300)

O sacred head, now wounded! 
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, thine only crown;
O sacred head, what glory,
What bliss, till now, was thine! 
Yet tho’ despised and gory,
I joy to call thee mine.

2 What thou, my Lord! hast suffered
Was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But thine the deadly pain;
Lo! here I fall, my Savior! 
’Tis I deserve thy place;
Look on me with thy favor;
Vouchsafe to me thy grace.

3 The joy can ne’er be spoken,
Above all joys beside,
When in thy body broken,
I thus with safety hide;
My Lord of life! desiring
Thy glory now to see,
Beside thy cross expiring,
I’d breathe my soul to thee.

     Paul Gerhardt, 1659.

121 Avon.  C.M.

Before the Cross. (281)

Alas! and did my Savior bleed? 
  And did my Sovereign die? 
Would he devote that sacred head
  For such a worm as I?

2 Was it for crimes that I have done
  He groaned upon the tree? 
Amazing pity! grace unknown! 
  And love beyond degree!

3 Well might the sun in darkness hide,
  And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the mighty Maker, died
  For man, the creature’s sin!