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CLXVII

J. Mason

My LORD, my Love, was crucified;

He all the pains did bear;

But in the sweetness of His rest

He makes His servants share.

How sweetly rest Thy saints above

Which in Thy bosom lie!

The Church below doth rest in hope

Of that felicity.

Thou, LORD, who daily feed'st Thy sheep,

Mak'st them a weekly feast;

Thy flocks meet in their several folds

Upon this day of rest:--

Welcome and dear unto my soul

Are these sweet feasts of love:

But what a sabbath shall I keep

When I shall rest above!

I bless Thy wise and wondrous love,

Which binds us to be free;

Which makes us leave our earthly snares,

That we may come to Thee!

135

I come, I wait, I hear, I pray!

Thy footsteps, LORD, I trace!

I sing to think this is the way

Unto my Saviour's face!

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