Christ is our Cornerstone Christ is our Cornerstone, On Him alone we build; With His true saints alone The

courts of heaven are filled; On His great love our hopes we place Of present grace and joys above. O then with hymns of praise These hallowed courts shall ring; Our voices we will raise The Three in One to sing; And thus proclaim in joyful song Both loud and long, that glorious Name. Here, gracious God, do Thou Forevermore draw nigh; Accept each faithful vow, And mark each suppliant sigh; In copious shower on all who pray, Each holy day, Thy blessings pour. Here may we gain from Heavn, The grace which we implore; And may that grace, once given, Be with us evermore; Until that day when all the blest To endless rest are called away.

All hail the power of Jesus Name!

All hail the power of Jesus Name! Let angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all. Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all. Let highborn seraphs tune the lyre, and as they tune it, fall Before His face Who tunes their choir, and crown Him Lord of all. Before His face Who tunes their choir, and crown Him Lord of all. Crown Him, ye morning stars of light, who fixed this floating ball; Now hail the strength of Israels might, and crown Him Lord of all. Now hail the strength of Israels might, and crown Him Lord of all.

Crown Him, ye martyrs of your God, who from His altar call; Extol the Stem of Jesses Rod, and crown Him Lord of all. Extol the Stem of Jesses Rod, and crown Him Lord of all. Ye seed of Israels chosen race, ye ransomed from the fall, Hail Him Who saves you by His grace, and crown Him Lord of all. Hail Him Who saves you by His grace, and crown Him Lord of all. Hail Him, ye heirs of Davids line, whom David Lord did call, The God incarnate, Man divine, and crown Him Lord of all, The God incarnate, Man divine, and crown Him Lord of all. Sinners, whose love can neer forget the wormwood and the gall, Go spread your trophies at His feet, and crown Him Lord of all. Go spread your trophies at His feet, and crown Him Lord of all. Let every tribe and every tongue before Him prostrate fall And shout in universal song the crownd Lord of all. And shout in universal song the crownd Lord of all.

When I survey the wondrous cross

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. Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ my God! All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood. See from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did eer such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown? His dying crimson, like a robe, Spreads oer His body on the tree; Then I am dead to all the globe, And all the globe is dead to me. Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.