Yea, them when He might have o'erthrown, To save their lives He gave His own.
4 They who most friendship should have shown,
With deep unkindness pierced His heart;
He made His dear affection known,
And they despised His desert;
For Him they snares and engines laid,
With shows of love they him betray'd,
And swords and staves, as to a thief,
They brought to apprehend their chief.
5 Him they exposed to all disgrace,
They buffet Him for just replies,
They spit their filth into His face,
Against Him falsehoods they devise ;
For being silent Him they blame,
For speaking truth they do the same;
They jeer, they scorn, they Him revile,
And He sits quiet all the while.
6 His garments then from Him they stripp'd,
So sad a sight was never seen,
And their true Prince with rods they whipp'd,
As if a bondslave He had been:
In purple then they clothed Him,
And for a princely diadem,
They crown'd Him with a wreath of thorn,
And called Him their King in scorn.
7 To view Him in so sad a plight,
In them it could no pity breed;
But they rejoiced at the sight,
And in their malice did proceed:
Away with Him, away, they cried,
And call'd to have Him crucified;
Yea, rather than they Him would save,
Unto a murderer life they gave.
8 A weighty cross upon His back,
Late rent with wounds, they rudely laid,
Which He to bear did undertake,
Till Him that burden overweigh'd;
The Son of God, the life of men,
Unto that cross they nailed then,
And in the view of all the throng,
By His torn hands and feet He hung.
9 Could I in words His pain relate,
As to my heart the same appears,
Each hearer would be moved thereat,
To shed, at least, a shower of tears;
For, when His torments were at height,
They still pursued Him with despite,
And still, whate'er they did or said
To torture Him, for them He pray'd.
10 He was abused or left of all,
Some did His pious works deride,
To comfort Him some gave Him gall,
Some flouted when to God He cried :
Few seem'd so touched with His grief
As was one tender-hearted thief,
And he who to conclude His smart
Did thrust a javelin to His heart.
11 Although His love immortal were,
It was our flesh that then He wore,
Which could not endless torments bear;
Thereon their spite prevail'd therefore.
And then the Lamb, foretypified
By that which for young Isaac died,
Gave up the ghost, and so defray'd*
Our debt, which we could ne'er have paid.
12 His death, though much it moved not man,
Did make the sun his light restrain,
The fixed earth to quake began,
The temple-veil was rent in twain ;
It caused the hardest rocks to crack,
The closets of the dead it brake,
* Cancelled.
And of their graves they did arise, And show themselves to mortal eyes. 13 Then did His foes begin to fear,
Which fear in some despair begot;
Some were amazed, some hopeful were,
Some raged, and relented not.
His friends, whose faith this trial shook,
Renew'd lost hopes, new courage took,
Yet feared more than they believed,
Till Him revived they perceived.
14 Let all of us who present be,
With loving hearts this Prince embrace,
For by His death alive are we,
And by His pains we gained grace :
In Him whom Pilate crucified
All this was truly verified;
In Him, therefore, so let us live,
That life eternal He may give.
15 Our sins did help, as on this day,
With whips and thorns to make Him smart;
They help to take His life away,
Our want of love did wound His heart;
And though the Jews' despite we blame,
We were partakers in the same.
Oh! let us now partake no more
In their offence, as heretofore.
HYMN XXXVI.
For Easter Day.
THIS day is kept in memorial of our Saviour's blessed Resurrection, whereby the Church as members with their head, began a joyful triumph over sin, death, and the devil. And this annual commemoration was thought helpful, both to stir up thankful rejoicings in those to whom this is known, and to be a means also to make some take knowledge of it who are yet strangers to these mysteries.
Sing this as the 100th Psalm without the Chorus.
HIS is the day the Lord hath made,
And therein joyful we will be;
For from the black infernal shade,
In triumph back return'd is He:
The snares of Satan and of death
He hath victoriously undone,
And His opposers forced He hath
His triumphs to attend upon.
Cho. This is the day the Lord hath made,
Come, let us now therein be glad.
2 The grave, which all did once detest,
And thought a dungeon full of fear,
Is now become the house of rest,
And no such terrors harbour there;
For Christ our Lord hath took away
The horrors of that loathsome den,
And, since His resurrection-day,
The faithful find no fears therein.
Cho. This is the day the Lord hath made,
Come, let us now therein be glad.
3 His bitter mocks, His painful smart,
Hath praise and ease for us procured;
And to our joy we may convert
What He with broken heart endured.
His body now is made a food,
Our fainting spirits to refresh,
And we are by His precious blood
Refined both in soul and flesh.
Cho. This is the day the Lord hath made,
Come, let us now therein be glad.
4 His wounds that were both deep and wide,
To us the caves of refuge are;
There from pursuers we may hide,
And 'scape our life's destroyer there.
Now know we that, as was foretold,
His flesh did no corruption see,
And that hell wanted strength to hold
So strong and blest a Prince as He.
Cho. This is the day the Lord hath made,
Come, let us all therein be glad.
5 Oh! let us praise His name, therefore,
Who this renowned conquest won,
For we had else for evermore
Been everlastingly undone.
Whereas embolden'd now we grow,
Triumphantly to say or sing,
O hell! where is thy conquest now? And where, O death! is now thy sting? Cho. This is the day the Lord hath made, Come, let us now therein be glad.
HYMN XXXVII.
For Ascension Day.
AFTER our Saviour was risen from the dead, and had many times showed Himself to His disciples, He ascended visibly up into heaven in their presence: in memorial of which ascension, and to praise God for so exalting the human nature, we celebrate this day. Sing this as the 117th Psalm.
O God, with heart and cheerful voice,
A triumph-song we sing,
And with true thankfulness rejoice
In our almighty King.
We to His glory will record,
Who are but dust and clay,
What honour He did us afford
On his ascension-day.
2 The human nature, which of late
Beneath His angels was,
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