By the sacred griefs that wept,
O'er the grave where Lazarus slept,-
By the boding tears that flowed
Over Salem's loved abode,-
By the anguished tear that told
Treachery lurked within thy fold,-
From thy seat above the sky,
Hear our solemn litany!
By thine hour of dire despair,
By thine agony of prayer,-
By the cross, the nail, the thorn,
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn,
By the gloom that veiled the skies
O'er the dreadful sacrifice,
Listen to our humble cry,
Hear our solemn litany!
By the deep expiring groan,
By the sad sepulchral stone,
By the vault whose dark abode
Held in vain the rising God,―
Oh! from earth to heaven restored,
Mighty re-ascended Lord,
Listen, listen to the cry
Of our solemn litany!
WHEN on Sinai's top I see
God descend in majesty,
To proclaim his Holy Law,
All my spirit sinks with awe..
When, in ecstacy sublime, Tabor's glorious steep I climb, At the too-transporting light, Darkness rushes o'er my sight.
When on Calvary I rest,
God, in flesh made manifest,
Shines, in my Redeemer's face,
Full of beauty, truth, and grace.
Here I would for ever stay, Weep and gaze my soul away: Thou art heaven on earth to me, Lovely, mournful Calvary!
DID Christ o'er sinners weep?
And shall our cheeks be dry?
Let floods of penitential grief
Burst forth from every eye.
The Son of God in tears!
Angels with wonder see!
Be thou astonished, O my soul!
He shed those tears for thee.
He wept that we might weep,
Each sin demands a tear;
In heaven alone no sin is found,
And there's no weeping there.
FOR thou didst die for me, oh, Son of God!
By thee the throbbing flesh of man was worn;
Thy naked feet the thorns of sorrow trod,
And tempests beat thy houseless head forlorn.
Thou, that wert wont to stand
Alone, on God's right hand,
Before the ages were, the Eternal, eldest born.
Thy birthright in the world was pain and grief,
Thy love's return ingratitude and hate;
The limbs thou healedst brought thee no relief,
The eyes thou openedst calmly viewed thy fate:
Thou, that wert wont to dwell
In peace, tongue cannot tell,
Nor heart conceive, the bliss of thy celestial state.
They dragged thee to the Roman's solemn hall,
Where the proud judge in purple splendour sate;
Thou stoodst a meek and patient criminal,
Thy doom of death from human lips to wait;
Whose throne shall be the world
With all mankind to hear their everlasting fate.
Thou wert alone in that fierce multitude,
When "Crucify him!" yelled the general shout;
No hand to guard thee mid those insults rude,
Nor lip to bless in all that frantic rout;
Whose lightest whispered word
The Seraphim hath heard,
And adamantine arms from all the heavens broke out
They bound thy temples with the twisted thorn,
Thy bruised feet went languid on with pain;
The blood, from all thy flesh with scourges torn,
Deepened thy robe of mockery's crimson grain;
Whose native vesture bright
Was the unapproached light,
The sandal of whose foot the rapid hurricane.
They smote thy cheek with many a ruthless palm,
With the cold spear thy shuddering side they pierced;
The draught of bitterest gall was all the balm
They gave, t'enhance thy unslaked, burning thirst:
Thou, at whose words of peace
Did pain and anguish cease,
And the long buried dead their bonds of slumber burst.
Low bowed thy head convulsed, and, drooped in death, Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry;
Slow struggled from thy breast the parting breath, every limb was wrung with agony.
That head, whose veilless blaze
Filled angels with amaze,
When at that voice sprang forth the rolling suns on high,
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