4 Thus might I hide my blushing face
  While his dear cross appears;
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
  And melt mine eyes to tears.

5 But drops of grief can ne’er repay
  The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away;
  ’Tis all that I can do.

     Isaac Watts, 1709.

Cho.—­Jesus died for you,
      And Jesus died for me,
      Yes, Jesus died for all mankind;
      Bless God, salvation’s free.

Cho.—­Help me, dear Savior, thee to own,
        And ever faithful be;
      And when thou sittest on thy throne. 
        O Lord, remember me.

122 Avon.  C.M.

Jesus Died for Me.

Great God, when I approach thy throne
  And all thy glory see;
This is my stay, and this alone,
  That Jesus died for me.

2 How can a soul condemned to die,
  Escape the just decree? 
Helpless and full of sin am I,
  But Jesus died for me.

3 Burdened with sin’s oppressive chain,
  Oh, how can I get free? 
No peace can all my efforts gain,
  But Jesus died for me.

4 And, Lord, when I behold thy face,
  This must be all my plea;
Save me by thy almighty grace,
  For Jesus died for me.

     W.B.  Bathurst, d. 1877.

123 Cowper.  C.M.

Contrition at the Cross. (283)

O Jesus! sweet the tears I shed,
  While at thy cross I kneel,
Gaze on thy wounded, fainting head,
  And all thy sorrows feel.

2 My heart dissolves to see thee bleed,
  This heart so hard before;
I hear thee for the guilty plead,
  And grief o’erflows the more.

3 ’Twas for the sinful thou didst die,
  And I a sinner stand;
What love speaks from thy dying eye,
  And from each pierced hand!

4 I know this cleansing blood of thine
  Was shed, dear Lord, for me;
For me, for all—­oh, grace divine!—­
  Who look by faith on thee.

     Ray Palmer, 1867.

124 Cowper.  C.M.

Resting Beneath the Cross. (277)

Oppressed with noon-day’s scorching heat,
  To yonder cross I flee;
Beneath its shelter take my seat: 
  No shade like this for me!

2 Beneath that cross clear waters burst,
  A fountain sparkling free;
And there I quench my desert thirst: 
  No spring like this for me!

3 A stranger here, I pitch my tent
  Beneath this spreading tree;
Here shall my pilgrim life be spent: 
  No home like this for me!

4 For burdened ones a resting-place
  Beside that cross I see;
Here I cast off my weariness: 
  No rest like this for me!

     H. Bonar, 1857.

125 The Cross.  C.M.

The Precious Love. (530)

The cross, the cross, the blood-stained cross! 
  The hallowed cross I see;
Reminding me of precious blood
  That once was shed for me.