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7s. M.


“It Is Finished.”

It is finished! glorious word

From thy lips, our suffering Lord!

Words of high, triumphant might,

Ere thy spirit takes its flight.

It is finished! all is o’er;

Pain and scorn oppress no more.

Now, no more foreboding dread

Shades the path thy feet must tread;

No more fear, lest in thine hour

Pain should patience overpower;

On the perfect sacrifice

Not a stain of weakness lies.

Champion! lay thine armor by;

’Tis thine hour of victory!

All thy toils are now o’erpast;

Thou hast found thy rest at last;

All hath faithfully been done,

And the world’s salvation won.

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