543 7s & 6s. The Cross—the power of God. 1 Cor. 1:18. I saw the cross of Jesus When burdened with my sin; I sought the cross of Jesus To give me peace within; I brought my soul to Jesus; He cleansed it in his blood; And in the cross of Jesus I found my peace with God. 2 I love the cross of Jesus— It tells what I am; A vile and guilty creature, Saved only through the Lamb. No righteousness, no merit, No beauty can I plead; Yet in the cross I glory, My title there I read. 3 I clasp the cross of Jesus In every trying hour, My sure and certain refuge, My never-failing tower. In every fear and conflict, I more than conqueror am; Living I’m safe, or dying, Through Christ the risen Lamb. 4 Sweet is the cross of Jesus! There let my weary heart Still rest in peace and safety Till life itself depart; And then in strains of glory I’ll sing thy wondrous power, Where sin can never enter, And death is known no more. 544 10s. Communion of the body and blood of Christ. Here, O my Lord, I see thee face to face; Here would I touch and handle things unseen; Here grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace, And all my weariness upon thee lean. 2 Here would I feed upon the bread of God; Here drink with thee the royal wine of heaven; Here would I lay aside each earthly load, Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven. 3 Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear; The feast, though not the love, is passed and gone: The bread and wine remove, but thou art here— Nearer than ever—still my Shield and Sun. 4 Feast after feast thus comes and passes by; Yet, passing, points to the glad feast above— Giving sweet foretaste of the festal joy, The Lamb’s great bridal feast of bliss and love. 545 H. M. Believing, we rejoice. 1 Peter 1:8. Ye saints, your music bring, Attuned to sweetest sound, Strike every trembling string, Till earth and heaven resound; The triumphs of the cross we sing; Awake, ye saints, each joyful string. 2 The cross, the cross alone, Subdued the powers of hell; Like lightning from his throne The prince of darkness fell, The triumphs of the cross we sing, Awake, ye saints, each joyful string. 3 The cross hath power to save From all the foes that rise; The cross hath made the grave A passage to the skies; The triumphs of the cross we sing; Awake, ye saints, each joyful string. 546 7s, 6 lines. The true Passover.