« 이전계속 »
3 Nations all, remote and near,
Haste to see your God appear;
Meet him manifested there.
God descends to dwell with men;
Epiphany. 1 LORD, whose love in pow'r excelling,
Wash'd the leper's stain away;
Hear us, help us, when we pray. 2 From the filth of vice and folly,
From infuriate passion's rage,
Heedless youth, and selfish age.
Adam's ancient taint disclose;
Restless doubt, and blind repose. 4 From the miser's love of treasure,
From the drunkard's jest obscene, From the world, its pomp, and pleasure,
Jesus! Master! make us clean!
FOR CHRISTIAN LOVE.
His image bear below:
With love to man will glow.
As we are lov'd of thee;
Who live in enmity.
Our hopes and fears the same; The cords of love our hearts should bind,
The law of love inflame.
Our peaceful lives approve:
. See how these Christians love!'
OH help us, Lord ! each hour of need
Thy heav'nly succour give: :
Each hour on earth we live.
2 Oh help us, when our spirits bleed,
With contrite anguish sore; And when our hearts are cold and dead,
Oh help us Lord the more ! 3 Oh help us, through the pray'r of faith
More firmly: to believe;
The more shall he receive.
Imploring at thy feet
'Tis all we dare entreat.
So thou wilt grant but this;
Are light, and life, and bliss.
We know no help but thee;
As thine in heaven to be!
HYMN XII. D. C. M.
EE! what unbounded zeal and love
Inflam'd the Saviour's breast,
His urgent way he press'd.
Good-will to man, and zeal for God,
His ev'ry thought engross:
And woes to us unknown n;
'Twas love that urg'd him on.
See paradise restor’d;
With his forgiving Lord.
Who all our griefs hast borne,
To look on thee, and mourn:
And, as thy cross we see,
The Saviour died for me!'
Nature's undisputed Lord;
God, by earth and heav'n ador'd?.
2 See him here, how alter'd now,
Sinking to his sinless grave!
Mock'd by those he came to save! 3 See the large round drops of blood,
Coursing silent down his cheek;
The agony those drops bespeak! 4 Hear him pour the lowly pray’r,
· Father, spare thine only Son! This bitter cup in mercy spare,
Yet thy will, not mine be done.' 5 Was it, blessed Lord, for me
That dark hour of pain you bore?
Rev. T. Grylls. 107. HYMN XIV. C. M.
On which the Lord was laid ;
In agony he pray'd.
If such thy sacred will :
Thy pleasure I fulfil.'