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HYMN FOR GOOD FRIDAY. II.

The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.

St. John, vi. 63.

Johann Zwick. Died 1542.

Frances E. Cox. Tr. 1841

Seven times our blessed Saviour spoke,

When on the cross our sins He took,

And died lest man should perish:

Let us his last and dying words

In our remembrance cherish.

“Forgive them, gracious Father, oh

Forgive! they know not what they do;”

So far his love extended:

Forgive us, Lord, where we too have

Through ignorance offended.

Now to the contrite thief He cries,

“Thou, verily, in Paradise

Shalt meet me ere to-morrow:”

Lord, take us to thy kingdom soon,

Who linger here in sorrow.

To weeping Mary standing by,

“Behold thy son!” now hear Him cry,

To John, “Behold thy mother!”

Protect, Lord, those we leave behind,

Let each befriend the other.

Now from his frame exhausted burst

Those few faint words, “I thirst! I thirst!”

O Lord! for our salvation

Thy thirst was great: then help us still

To overcome temptation.

Then rose that cry, “My God, oh why

Forsake me in my agony?”

Lord, Thou wast here forsaken,

That we might be received on high;

Let this our hope awaken.

Now, bowing low his languid head,

He murmured, “It is finished:”

To Thee our way commending,

May we whate’er thy will impose

Bring to a joyful ending.

One piercing cry, and all is done!

“Father, to thy true hands alone

I now commend my spirit:”

Be this, when sinks our dying heart,

The wish that last shall stir it.

Whoe’er, by sense of sin opprest,

On these blest words his thoughts doth rest,

Thence joy and hope obtaineth:

And, through God’s love and boundless grace,

A peaceful conscience gaineth.

O Jesu Christ! our Lord and Guide,

Who hast for our salvation died!

On this for ever dwelling,

May we each hour thy death regard,

Thy grief, all grief excelling!

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