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Christ Crucified. 50
They praise the Lamb who once was slain; But we can add a higher strain; Not only say, He suffered thus, But that He suffered all for us.
Jesus, who pass'd the angels by, Assumed our flesh to bleed and die; And still He makes it His abode; As man He fills the throne of God
Our next of kin, our Brother now, Is He to whom the angels bow ; They join with us to praise His Name, But we the nearest interest claim.
But ah ! how faint our praises rise! Sure 'tis the wonder of the skies, That we, who share His richest love, So cold and unconcern'd should prove.
O glorious hour ! it comes with speed, When we, from sin and darkness freed, Shall see the God who died for man, And praise Him more than angels can.
John Newt071, 1779
O Saviour, may we never rest
Till Thou art form'd within ; Till Thou hast calm'd our troubled breast,
And crush'd the power of sin.
O may we gaze upon Thy cross,
Until the wondrous sight Makes earthly treasures seem but dross,
And earthly sorrows light.