Page 70 - Voices in Praise

Hark! All the tribes hosanna! cry;
Chorus
In the Cross, in the Cross,
Be my glory ever; Till my raptured soul shall find
Rest beyond the river.
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106 When my love to Christ
grows weak
Verse 1
When my love to Christ grows weak,
When for deeper faith I seek,
Then in thought I go to thee,
Garden of Gethsemane! 1/6
Verse 2
There I walk amid the shades,
While the lingering twilight fades,
See that suffering, friendless one,
Weeping, praying there alone. 2/6
Verse 3
When my love for man grows weak,
When for stronger faith I seek,
Hill of Calvary! I go to
Thy scenes of fear and woe. 3/6
Verse 4
There behold His agony,
Suffered on the bitter Tree;
See His anguish, see His faith,
Love triumphant still in death. 4/6
Verse 5
Then to life I turn again,
Learning all the worth of pain,
Learning all the might that lies
In a full self-sacrifice. 5/6
Verse 6
And I praise with firmer faith
Christ who vanquished pain and death;
And to Christ enthroned above
Raise my song of selfless love. 6/6
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107 Ride on, ride on in majesty
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Return
O Saviour meek, pursue Thy road
With palms and scattered garments strowed.
1/5
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
O Christ, Thy triumphs now begin
O'er captive death and conquered sin. 2/5
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
The winged squadrons of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes
To see the approaching sacrifice. 3/5
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh;
The father on His sapphire throne
Expects His own anointed son. 4/5
Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
Bow Thy meek Head to mortal pain,
Then take, o God, Thy power, and reign. 5/5
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108 O sacred Head once wounded
Verse 1
O sacred Head once wounded,
With grief and pain weighed down,
How scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown! How pale art
Thou with anguish, With sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish
Which once was bright as morn! 1/4
Verse 2 O Lord of Life and Glory,
What bliss till now was Thine! I read the
wondrous story, I joy to call Thee mine.
Thy grief and Thy compassion
Were all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression.
But Thine the deadly pain. 2/4
Verse 3
What language shall I borrow