Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind,
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve!
Because Thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, (Thy Love unknown
Has broken every barrier down,)
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, of that free love

The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove,

Here for a season, then above,

O Lamb of God, I come!

Charlotte Elliott. 1836.

CXLVIII.

When wounded sore the stricken soul

Lies bleeding and unbound,

One only hand, a pierced hand,

Can salve the sinner's wound.

When sorrow swells the laden breast,
And tears of anguish flow,
One only heart, a broken heart,
Can feel the sinner's woe.

When penitence has wept in vain
Over some foul dark spot,

One only stream, a stream of blood,
Can wash away the blot.

'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white,
His hand that brings relief,

M

His heart that's touch'd with all our joys
And feeleth for our grief.

Lift up Thy bleeding hand, O Lord;
Unseal that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin,

But in Thy wounded side.

Cecil Frances Alexander. 1858.

XII.

RESURRECTION AND ETERNAL LIFE.

"And I look for the Resurrection of the dead, and the Life of the world to come.

CXLIX.

Amen."

Earth to earth, and dust to dust,

Lord, we own the sentence just;

Head and tongue, and hand and heart,
All in guilt have borne their part;
Righteous is the common doom,
All must moulder in the tomb.

Like the seed in spring-time sown,
Like the leaves in autumn strown,
Low these goodly frames must lie,
All our pomp and glory die ;
Soon the Spoiler seeks his prey,
Soon he bears us all away.

Yet the seed, upraised again,

Clothes with green the smiling plain ;
Onward as the seasons move,
Leaves and blossoms deck the grove;

And shall we forgotten lie,

Lost for ever, when we die?

Lord, from Nature's gloomy night
Turn we to the Gospel's light;
Thou didst triumph o'er the grave,
Thou wilt all Thy people save;
Ransom'd by Thy Blood, the just
Rise immortal from the dust.

John Hampden Gurney. 1851.

CL.

O God, Thy grace and blessing give
To us, who on thy Name attend,
That we this mortal life may live
Regardful of our journey's end.

Teach us to know that Jesus died,
And rose again, our souls to save ;
Teach us to take Him as our Guide,
Our Help from childhood to the grave.

Then shall not death with terror come,
But welcome as a bidden guest,
The herald of a better home,
The messenger of peace and rest.

And, when the awful signs appear

Of Judgment, and the Throne above, Our hearts still fix'd, we shall not fear, God is our trust; and God is Love. Anon. [1853.]

CLI.

Dearest of names, our Lord, our King!
Jesus, Thy praise we humbly sing:

In cheerful songs we'll spend our breath,
And in Thee triumph over death.

Death is no more among our foes,
Since Christ, the mighty Conqueror, rose;
Both power and sting the Saviour broke
He died, and gave the finish'd stroke.

Saints die, and we should gently weep;
Sweetly in Jesus' arms they sleep;
Far from this world of sin and woe,
Nor sin, nor pain, nor grief, they know.

Death no terrific foe appears ;
An angel's lovely form he wears;
A friendly messenger he proves
To every soul whom Jesus loves.

Death is a sleep; and O! how sweet To souls prepared its stroke to meet ! Their dying beds, their graves are blest, For all to them is peace and rest.

Their bodies sleep; their souls take wing, Uprise to Heaven, and there they sing With joy before the Saviour's face, Triumphant in victorious grace.

Soon shall the earth's remotest bound
Feel the Archangel's trumpet sound;
Then shall the grave's dark caverns shake,
And joyful all the saints shall wake.

Bodies:and souls shall then unite,
Arrayed in glory, strong and bright;
And all His saints will Jesus bring
His face to see, His love to sing.

O may I live, with Jesus nigh,
And sleep in Jesus when I die!

Then, joyful, when from death I wake,

I shall eternal bliss partake.

Samuel Medley. 1800.

CLII.

We sing His love, Who once was slain,
Who soon o'er death revived again,

That all His saints through Him might have
Eternal conquests o'er the grave.

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

The saints who now with Jesus sleep,
His own Almighty power shall keep,
Till dawns the bright illustrious day
When death itself shall die away :

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

How loud shall our glad voices sing,

When Christ His risen saints shall bring
From beds of dust, and silent clay,

To realms of everlasting day!

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

When Jesus we in glory meet,
Our utmost joys shall be complete ;
When landed on that heavenly shore,
Death and the curse will be no more:
Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.