My heart! the seven words hear now

That Jesus Christ hath spoken,

When on the cross His heart through woe

And murder dire was broken;

Ope now the shrine,

And lock them in,

As gifts all price excelling.

In bitter grief,

They’ll give relief,

’Neath crosses joy instilling.

His first and chiefest care He made

Who hated Him to cover:

God for the wicked men He pray’d,

That He’d their sin look over.

“Forgive, forgive,”

He said in love,

“Them every one, O Father!

Not one doth see

What doeth he,

In ignorance ’tis rather!”

How fair it is, let all learn here,

To love their foes who grieve them,

And all their faults with hearts sincere

Aye freely to forgive them.

He also shows,

How grace o’erflows

His heart, how kind His mood is,

That e’en his foe,

Who’d work Him woe,

Doth in Him find what good is!

Then to His mother doth He speak,

Who stood near him He loveth,

And as He can, though voice be weak,

With words of comfort sootheth:

“Woman! there see

Thy son, for me

Thou shalt by him be guarded.

Disciple! see,

Let her by thee

As mother be regarded.”

O faithful heart! thou car’st for all

Thine own who truly love Thee,

When they in tribulation fall

Thou seest, the sight doth move Thee;

A friend in need,

In word and deed,

Thou at their side appearest,

Dost by Thy grace

Find them a place,

Them to good souls endearest.

The third thing that Thy lips have said

Thou spak’st to him beside Thee,

When, “Think upon me then,” he pray’d,

“When God Himself shall guide Thee

Up to Thy throne,

Thy head shall crown

As Lord of earth and heaven:”

“To walk with Me

To-day shall thee

In Paradise be given.”

O blessèd word! O voice of joy!

Can aught affright us?—never!

Let death who seeketh to destroy,

Now disappear for ever!

Though he rage sore,

What can he more

Than soul and body sever?

And meanwhile I

Mount up on high,

In joy to dwell for ever.

Christ’s word gives deepest peace and joy,

The robber’s trouble stilleth;

But He cries from the agony

His holy breast that filleth,

“Eli, my God,

What heavy load

Am I, Thy Son, now bearing?

I call, and Thou

Art silent now,

Though I sink, seem’st not caring.”

This lesson learn, thou child of faith,

When God His count’nance veileth,

Lest thou be cast down in the path

When trouble thee assaileth:

Firm to Him cleave,

Though He may leave,

He’ll comfort soon, and cheer thee;

True do thou be,

Cry mightily,

Until He turn and hear thee.

The Lord His voice now clear doth raise

Through thirst that paineth sorely;

“I thirst,” the Spring eternal says,

The Lord of life and glory.

What meaneth He?

He showeth thee

How He thy load sinks under,

That thou did’st pile

For Him, the while

In sin’s ways thou did’st wander.

Thereby He also telleth thee

How much He longs that ever

His cross in each may fruitful be,

Fail of its end may never.

Mark this all ye,

Now carefully,

Who’re in soul tribulation:

Th’ eternal Sun

Refuseth none

The soul’s part and salvation.

And as the gloomy night of death

Upon the Lord descended,

“’Tis finish’d,” He with dying breath

Said, “now my work is ended;

What was foretold

In days of old,

By seers who went before me,

Doth now betide;

I’m crucified,

And men now triumph o’er me.”

“’Tis finish’d!”—why then toilest thou?

In vain thy labour ever!

As if aught human strength can do,

Could e’er from guilt deliver!

’Tis done! beware,

And never dare

To add aught to it ever;

Do thou believe,

In faith aye cleave

To Him, forsake Him never.

His voice at length the Lord doth raise,

High over all ’tis swelling:

“My spirit, Father! to the place

Take where Thou’rt ever dwelling,

My soul receive,

That now doth leave

This body sorely riven.”

And at the word,

To the great Lord

Release from pain was given.

Oh! would to God, that I might end

My life as His was ended,

My spirit unto God commend

As His was then commended.

O Christ, my Lord!

May Thy last word

The last be by me spoken;

So happily

I’ll go to Thee,

When life’s last thread is broken.