But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach read more

But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.

God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were
irreverent to ponder how the Son of read more

God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were
irreverent to ponder how the Son of God would have done it.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For read more

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore.

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted read more

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted Skeptic beamed
Manifest Godhead.

Every pang that rends the heart.

Every pang that rends the heart.

In darkness there is no choice. It is light that enables us to
see the difference between things; and read more

In darkness there is no choice. It is light that enables us to
see the difference between things; and it is Christ that gives us
light.

All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights
to dwell, His visits there are frequent, read more

All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights
to dwell, His visits there are frequent, His conversation sweet,
His comforts refreshing; and His peace passing all understanding.

Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ--
Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
read more

Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ--
Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engaged to fight--
Fourthwith a power of English shall we levy,
Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb
To chase these pagans in those holy fields
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.