,
To give the mourner joy,
To preach glad tidings to the poor,
Was his divine employ.

3 In the last hour of deep distress,
Before his Father's throne,
With soul resigned, he bowed, and said,
"Thy will, not mine, be done!"

4 Be Christ our pattern and our guide,
His image may we bear;
Oh, may we tread his sacred steps,
And his bright glories share.

William Endfield, 1802.

116 Wonderful Love of Jesus. P.M.

_Christ's Love._

In vain in high and holy lays
My soul her grateful voice would raise;
For who can sing the worthy praise
Of the wonderful love of Jesus?

Cho.--Wonderful love! wonderful love!
Wonderful love of Jesus!
Wonderful love! wonderful love!
Wonderful love of Jesus!

2 A joy by day, a peace by night,
In storms a calm, in darkness light;
In pain a balm, in weakness might,
Is the wonderful love of Jesus.

3 My hope for pardon when I call,
My trust for lifting when I fall;
In life, in death, my all in all,
Is the wonderful love of Jesus.

E.S. Lorenz.

117 Olive's Brow. L.M.

_Christ in Gethsemane._ (253)

'Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone;
'Tis midnight; in the garden, now,
The suffering Savior prays alone.

2 'Tis midnight; and, from all removed,
The Savior wrestles lone with fears;
E'en that disciple whom he loved
Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.

3 'Tis midnight; and for others' guilt
The man of sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet he that hath in anguish knelt
Is not forsaken by his God.

4 'Tis midnight; and from ether plains
Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the Savior's woe.

W.B. Tappan, 1822.

118 Windham. L.M.

_"Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?"_ (256)

From Calvary a cry was heard--
A bitter and heart-rending cry;
My Savior! ev'ry mournful word
Bespoke thy soul's deep agony

2 A horror of great darkness fell
On thee, thou spotless holy One!
And all the eager hosts of hell
Conspired to tempt God's only Son.

3 The scourge, the thorns, the deep disgrace,
These thou could'st bear, nor once repine;
But when Jehovah veiled his face,
Unutterable pangs were thine.

4 Let the dumb world its silence break;
Let pealing anthems rend the sky;
Awake, my sluggish soul, awake!
He died that we might never die.

John W. Cunningham, 1820.

119 Zephyr. L.M.