_Contrition at the Cross._ (283) O Jesus! sweet the tears I shed, While at thy cross I kneel, Gaze on thy wounded, fainting head, And all thy sorrows feel. 2 My heart dissolves to see thee bleed, This heart so hard before; I hear thee for the guilty plead, And grief o'erflows the more. 3 'Twas for the sinful thou didst die, And I a sinner stand; What love speaks from thy dying eye, And from each pierced hand! 4 I know this cleansing blood of thine Was shed, dear Lord, for me; For me, for all--oh, grace divine!-- Who look by faith on thee. Ray Palmer, 1867. 124 Cowper. C.M. _Resting Beneath the Cross._ (277) Oppressed with noon-day's scorching heat, To yonder cross I flee; Beneath its shelter take my seat: No shade like this for me! 2 Beneath that cross clear waters burst, A fountain sparkling free; And there I quench my desert thirst: No spring like this for me! 3 A stranger here, I pitch my tent Beneath this spreading tree; Here shall my pilgrim life be spent: No home like this for me! 4 For burdened ones a resting-place Beside that cross I see; Here I cast off my weariness: No rest like this for me! H. Bonar, 1857. 125 The Cross. C.M. _The Precious Love._ (530) The cross, the cross, the blood-stained cross! The hallowed cross I see; Reminding me of precious blood That once was shed for me. Cho.--Oh, the blood, the precious blood, That Jesus shed for me; Upon the cross, in crimson flood, Just now by faith I see. 2 The cross, the cross, that heavy cross, My Savior bore for me; It bowed him to the earth with grief On sad Mount Calvary 3 The wounds, the wounds, those painful wounds; Oh, they were made for me! His hands and feet, his holy head, All pierced and torn I see. 4 The death, the death, the awful death! That Jesus died for me; I heard his groans, his prayer, "Forgive," His bleeding side I see. 5 The love, the love, the matchless love, That bled upon the tree! It melts my heart, it wins my love, It brings me, Lord, to thee. J.H. Stockton. 126 Gorton. S.M. _Our Ransom Paid._ (296) Our sins on Christ were laid; He bore the mighty load; Our ransom price he fully paid In groans, and tears, and blood. 2 To save a world he dies; Sinners, behold the Lamb! To him lift up your longing eyes; Seek mercy in his name. 3 Pardon and peace abound; He will your sins forgive; Salvation in his name is found,-- He bids the sinner live. 4 Jesus, we look to thee;-- Where else can sinners go? Thy boundless love shall set us free From wretchedness and woe. J. Fawcett, 1760. 127 Gorton. S.M. _For Me He Died._ (300) Are there no wounds for me? Hast thou received them all? How can I, Lord, the anguish see, Beneath which thou didst fall? 2 'Tis over now, I know,-- That suffering life of thine; Thy precious blood has ceased to flow, Thou wear'st thy crown divine;