3 Gethsemane can I forget,
Or there thy conflict see,
Thine agony and bloody sweat,
And not remember thee?

4 When to the cross I turn my eyes,
And rest on Calvary,

O Lamb of God, my Sacrifice,
I must remember thee;

5 Remember thee, and all thy pains,
And all thy love to me,

Yea, while a breath, a pulse remains,
Will I remember thee.

6 And when these failing lips grow dumb, And mind and memory flee,

When thou shalt in thy kingdom come,
Jesus, remember me.

A Communion Hymn.

1 HERE, in the broken bread,
Here, in the cup we take,
His body and his blood behold,
Who suffered for our sake.

FURNESS.

2 Yes, that our souls might live,
Those sacred limbs were torn,
That blood was spilt, and pangs untold
Were by the Savior borne.

3 0 thou who didst allow

Thy Son to suffer thus,

Father, what more couldst thou have done
Than thou hast done for us?

4 We are persuaded now,

That nothing can divide

Thy children from thy boundless love,
Displayed in him who died; -

5 Who died to make us sure

Of mercy, truth, and peace;

And from the power and pains of sin
To bring a full release.

603

L. M.

Communion Hymn.

WATTS.

1 HOW are thy glories here displayed, Great God, how bright they shine, While at thy word we break the bread, And pour the flowing wine!

2 Thy saints attend, with every grace,.
On this great sacrifice,

And Love appears with cheerful face,
And Faith with fixed eyes.

3 Our Hope in waiting posture sits,
To Heaven directs her sight;
Here every warmer passion meets,
And warmer powers unite.

604

S. M.

FURNESS.

A Communion Hymn.

1 O FOR a prophet's fire,

O for an angel's tongue,

To speak the mighty love of Him
Who on the cross was hung!

2 In vain our hearts attempt,

In language meet, to tell

How through a thousand sorrows burned
That flame unquenchable.

3 Yet would we praise that love,
Beyond expression dear;

Come, gather round this table, then,
And celebrate it here.

4 Here, in the bread and wine,
Your dying Savior view;
Thus did he give his body up,
And thus his blood, for you.
5 These symbols of his death,

O, with what power they speak!
Prophetic lips and angels' lyres,
Compared with these, are weak.

6 And shall they plead in vain
With our forgetful souls?

Forbid it, God, while through our veins
The vital current rolls.

605

C. M.

E. TAYLOR.

Proper Dispositions for the Communion.

1 O, HERE, if ever, God of love,
Let strife and hatred cease,

And every thought harmonious move,
And every heart be peace.

2 Not here, where met to think on him
Whose latest thoughts were ours,
Shall mortal passions come to dim
The prayer devotion pours.

3 No, gracious Master, not in vain
Thy life of love hath been ;

The peace thou gav'st may yet remain,
Though thou no more art seen.

4 "Thy kingdom come; we watch, we wait, To hear thy cheering call,

When heaven shall ope its glorious gate,
And God be all in all.

606

S. M.

PARADISE ST. COL.

Grateful Remembrance of Christ.

1 JESUS, the Friend of man,
Invites us to his board:
The welcome summons we obey,
And own our gracious Lord.

2 Here we survey that love

Which spoke in every breath,
Which crowned each action of his life,
And triumphed in his death.

3 Then let our powers unite,

His honored name to raise ;
Let grateful joy fill every mind,
And every voice be praise.

4 And while we share the gifts
Which from his gospel flow,

O, may our hearts, to all mankind,
With warm affection glow.
40 *

473

607

C. M.

For Communicants.

BEDDONE.

1 YE followers of the Prince of Peace,
Who round his table draw,
Remember what his spirit was,
What his peculiar law.

2 The love which all his bosom filled,
Did all his actions guide;
Inspired by love he lived and taught;
Inspired by love he died.

3 Let each the sacred law fulfil;
Like his be every mind;

Be every temper formed by love,
And every action kind.

4 Let none who call themselves his friends, Disgrace the honored name;

But, by a near resemblance, prove
The title which they claim.

608

L. M.

Crucifixion to the World.

WATTS.

1 WHEN I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down:
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?