The Legend Of The Crossbill. (From The German Of Julius Mosen)
On the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.
And by all the world forsaken,
Sees he how with zealous care
At the ruthless nail of iron
A little bird is striving there.
Stained with blood and never tiring,
With its beak it doth not cease,
From the cross 't would free the Saviour,
Its Creator's Son release.
And the Saviour speaks in mildness:
'Blest be thou of all the good!
Bear, as token of this moment,
Marks of blood and holy rood!'
And that bird is called the crossbill;
Covered all with blood so clear,
In the groves of pine it singeth
Songs, like legends, strange to hear.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Related quotes
Old-Testament Gospel
Israel in ancient days,
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learned the gospel too:
The types and figures were a glass
In which they saw the Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice,
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlightened eyes,
And once applied with pow'r;
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood, of matchless worth,
Should be the soul's defence:
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of his own.
The scape-goat on his head
The peoples' trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him, our Surety seemed to say,
Behold, I bear your sins away.
Dipped in his fellows' blood,
The living bird went free,
The type, well understood,
Expressed the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus I love to trace
Throughout the sacred page;
The footsteps of thy grace,
The same in every age!
O grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light, vouchsafed to me.
poem by John Newton
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Olney Hymn 20: Old Testament Gospel
Israel in ancient days
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learn'd the Gospel too;
The types and figures were a glass,
In which thy saw a Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlighten'd eyes,
And once applied with power,
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood of matchless worth
Whould be the soul's defence;
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of His own.
The scape-goat on his head
The people's trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him our surety seem'd to say,
'Behold, I bear your sins away.'
Dipt in his fellow's blood,
The living bird went free;
The type, well understood,
Express'd the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus, I love to trace,
Throughout the sacred page,
The footsteps of Thy grace,
The same in every age!
Oh, grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light vouchsafed to me!
poem by William Cowper
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Jesus Hasting to Suffer
The Saviour, what a noble flame
Was kindled in his breast,
When hasting to Jerusalem,
He march'd before the rest.
Good will to men, and zeal for God,
His every thought engross;
He longs to be baptized with blood,
He pants to reach the cross!
With all His suffering full in view,
And woes to us unknown,
Forth to the task His spirit flew,
'Twas love that urged Him on.
Lord, we return Thee what we can:
Our hearts shall sound abroad,
Salvation to the dying Man,
And to the rising God!
And while Thy bleeding glories here
Engage our wondering eyes,
We learn our lighter cross to bear,
And hasten to the skies.
poem by William Cowper
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Olney Hymn 28: Jesus Hasting To Suffer
The Saviour, what a noble flame
Was kindled in his breast,
When hasting to Jerusalem,
He march'd before the rest.
Good will to men, and zeal for God,
His every thought engross;
He longs to be baptized with blood,
He pants to reach the cross!
With all His suffering full in view,
And woes to us unknown,
Forth to the task His spirit flew,
'Twas love that urged Him on.
Lord, we return Thee what we can:
Our hearts shall sound abroad,
Salvation to the dying Man,
And to the rising God!
And while Thy bleeding glories here
Engage our wondering eyes,
We learn our lighter cross to bear,
And hasten to the skies.
poem by William Cowper
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Old Testament Gospel
(Hebrews, iv.2)
Israel in ancient days
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learn'd the Gospel too;
The types and figures were a glass,
In which thy saw a Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlighten'd eyes,
And once applied with power,
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood of matchless worth
Whould be the soul's defence;
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of His own.
The scape-goat on his head
The people's trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him our surety seem'd to say,
"Behold, I bear your sins away."
Dipt in his fellow's blood,
The living bird went free;
The type, well understood,
Express'd the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus, I love to trace,
Throughout the sacred page,
The footsteps of Thy grace,
The same in every age!
Oh, grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light vouchsafed to me!
poem by William Cowper
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Let Me Be Your Saviour...
Dont you know, I so love you
Dont you know, I so care
Dont you know, dont you know, dont you know I so need you
Dont you know, I so care
So let me be your saviour today!
Come on, come on, come on girl
You think Im preaching
You think I talk too slow
Well Im not reaching, no no no no no
See through it baby, see through it for me
Saviour, saviour, saviour, saviour....
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood Stained
Atrocities
Made every day
Religiously
Their sins
They hide
Can never disguise
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
They wage their wars
Such profiteers
Will nail us all
Their crimes
Concealed
Despicably reveal
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained lies
They fire at will
Intent to kill
They have no conscience
They have no conscience
Ethnic cleansing nothing more!
Blood of nations blood of war
Turn blind eyes
From all your crimes
You bare our souls
Show no remorse
You cannot wash
The bloodstains off
They turn their backs
While others
Commit grisly acts
Were scared
For life
By politicians greedy
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained crimes
Blood stained lands
Blood stained minds
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
And while such predators
Stalk this earth
Disguised as saints
They kill our faith
Obsessed by greed
Lying through their teeth
They cannot wash
The blood stains off
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Afflicted, Tossed With Tempests And Not Comforted
Pensive, doubting, fearful heart,
Hear what Christ the Saviour says;
Every word should joy impart,
Change thy mourning into praise:
Yes, he speaks, and speaks to thee,
May he help thee to believe!
Then thou presently wilt see,
Thou hast little cause to grieve.
Fear thou not, nor be ashamed,
All thy sorrows soon shall end
I who heav'n and earth have framed,
Am thy husband and thy friend
I the High and Holy One,
Israel's God by all adored;
As thy Saviour will be known,
Thy Redeemer and thy Lord.
For a moment I withdrew,
And thy heart was filled with pain;
But my mercies I'll renew,
Thou shalt soon rejoice again:
Though I scorn to hide my face,
Very soon my wrath shall cease;
'Tis but for a moment's space,
Ending in eternal peace.
When my peaceful bow appears
Painted on the wat'ry cloud;
'Tis to dissipate thy fears,
Lest the earth should be o'erflowed:
'Tis an emblem too of grace,
Of my cov'nant love a sign;
Though the mountains leave their place,
Thou shalt be for ever mine.
Though afflicted, tempest-tossed,
Comfortless awhile thou art,
Do not think thou canst be lost,
Thou art graven on my heart
All thy walls I will repair,
Thou shalt be rebuilt anew;
And in thee it shall appear,
What a God of love can do.
poem by John Newton
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Poem: Song to the Holy Cross
The cross of love:
The cross I love:
The cross I'd loved all life;
The wooden cross:
The holy cross:
The cross that bore man's strife.
The oaken cross:
The heavy cross:
The cross Jesus carried;
The cross on which
Christ Lord was nailed:
And bore man's sins indeed.
The cross of death:
The blood-stained cross:
The Savior, man, redeemed;
The cross of life's
Victory o'er death:
That souls on earth must heed.
poem by John Celes
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Calling You
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Writer: hank williams, sr.
[d] when youve strayed from the fold
And theres [g] trouble in your [d] soul
Cant you hear the blessed saviour callin [a7] you?
When your [d] soul is lost in sin
And youre [g] at your journeys [d] end
Cant you hear the blessed [a7] saviour callin [d] you? ê
Chorus
Callin [g] you? , [callin you? ]
Callin [d] you? , [callin you? ]
Cant you hear the blessed saviour callin [a7] you?
He will [d] take you by the hand
Lead you [g] to that promise [d] land
Cant you hear the blessed [a7] saviour callin [d] you? ê
As you journey day by day
And temptation comes your way
Cant you hear the blessed saviour callin you?
If youll follow in his light
He will always guide you right
Cant you hear the blessed saviour callin you? ê
Chorus
When your soul is burdened down
And your friend(s) can not be found
Cant you hear the blessed saviour callin you?
If youll follow him each day
He will brighten up your way
Cant you hear the blessed saviour callin you? ê
Chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rise, Oh My Soul, With Thy Desires To Heaven
1. Rise, oh my Soul, with thy desires to Heaven,
And with Divinest contemplation, use
Thy time, where times eternity is given,
And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse:
But down in darkness let them lie,
So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die.
2. And thou, my Soul, inspir'd with holy flame,
View and review with most regardful eye,
That holy Cross whence thy salvation came,
On which thy Saviour, and thy sin did die:
For in that Sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.
3. To thee (O Jesu) I direct my eye,
To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees,
To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice,
To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees:
To thee my self, my self and all I give;
To thee I die, to thee I only live.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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You Chose To Climb The Hill And Not Turn Back
'Father, not My will, but Yours be done, ' You said
then climbed the hill to the cross Your blood to shed.
There You chose to bear my pain and wear my shame
even though You were innocent and not to blame.
A load much heavier than the cross You bore
piercing deeper than the crown of thorns You wore.
You were smitten of God and forsaken too
when my sin came between the Father and You.
There lash by lash the price for each sin You paid
as all my guilt and shame upon You was laid.
Then 'It is finished, ' in victory You cried
as You bowed Your head upon that cross and died.
Deep waves of love and mercy flowed from the cross
as Your blood was poured out all my sins to wash.
They're gone as far as the East is from the West
and I'm now forgiven and so very blessed.
Because You hung there on the cross in my stead.
Because Your blood was upon the altar shed.
Because of You, Lord Jesus I can go free.
Because You chose the road to Calvary.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem How Glad
Jerusalem, Jerusalem how glad
am I in prayer to have stood;
in thee blessed city at remains
of thy second temple’s walls.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem Oh how glad
am I sacred Via Dolorosa walked;
in remembrance atonement passed
stations of The Cross to have passed.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem Oh how glad
am I who before entering sacred;
Garden of Gethsemane to view aged
olive trees was cast down humbled.
For Jesus in agony fear here sweated
blood in prayer to heaven to father God;
when last among these olives he stood
thus rejoice all bowed before our Lord.
In pilgrimage to Calvary where our Lord
for my sins humanities Christ was Crucified;
where a group of witnesses Marys stood
bewailing in heart soul worship as we should.
This most Holy City Jerusalem City of our God
site of our Saviour’s Cross where our Saviour trod;
Almighty God this is thy most sacred Holy City still
at Messiah’s return here raise holy men at thy will.
The Via Dolorosa (Latin for Way of Grief or Way of Suffering) is the sacred two part street, within the Old City of Jerusalem; where Jesus walked carrying the cross, on the way to his crucifixion.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Holy Communion
O God of Mercy, God of Might,
How should pale sinners bear the sight,
If, as Thy power in surely here,
Thine open glory should appear?
For now Thy people are allowed
To scale the mount and pierce the cloud,
And Faith may feed her eager view
With wonders Sinai never knew.
Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice
The world's Creator bleeding lies.
That man, His foe, by whom He bled,
May take Him for his daily bread.
O agony of wavering thought
When sinners first so near are brought!
"It is my Maker--dare I stay?
My Saviour--dare I turn away?"
Thus while the storm is high within
'Twixt love of Christ and fear of sin,
Who can express the soothing charm,
To feel Thy kind upholding arm,
My mother Church? and hear thee tell
Of a world lost, yet loved so well,
That He, by whom the angels live,
His only Son for her would give?
And doubt we yet? Thou call'st again;
A lower still, a sweeter strain;
A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine,
This very breath of Love divine.
Whispering it says to each apart,
"Come unto Me, thou trembling heart;"
And we must hope, so sweet the tone,
The precious words are all our own.
Hear them, kind Saviour--hear Thy Spouse
Low at Thy feet renew her vows;
Thine own dear promise she would plead
For us her true though fallen seed.
She pleads by all Thy mercies, told
Thy chosen witnesses of old,
Love's heralds sent to man forgiven,
One from the Cross, and one from Heaven.
This, of true penitents the chief,
To the lost spirit brings relief,
Lifting on high th' adored Name:-
"Sinners to save, Christ, Jesus came."
That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends,
Into the wavering heart descends:-
"What? fallen again? yet cheerful rise.
Thine Intercessor never dies."
The eye of Faith, that waxes bright
Each moment by thine altar's light,
Sees them e'en now: they still abide
In mystery kneeling at our side:
And with them every spirit blest,
From realms of triumph or of rest,
From Him who saw creation's morn,
Of all Thine angels eldest born,
To the poor babe, who died to-day,
Take part in our thanksgiving lay,
Watching the tearful joy and calm,
While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm.
Sweet awful hour! the only sound
One gentle footstep gliding round,
Offering by turns on Jesus' part
The Cross to every hand and heart.
Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast;
And when Thy veil is drawn at last,
Let us depart where shadows cease,
With words of blessing and of peace.
poem by John Keble
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The Crucifixion of Christ
Composed, by Special Request, 18th June 1890
Then Pilate, the Roman Governor, took Jesus and scourged Him,
And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and thought it no sin
To put it on His head, while meekly Jesus stands;
They put on Him a purple robe, and smote Him with their hands.
Then Pilate went forth again, and said unto them,
Behold, I bring Him forth to you, but I cannot Him condemn,
And I would have you to remember I find no fault in Him,
And to treat Him too harshly 'twould be a sin.
But the rabble cried. Hail, King of the Jews, and crucify Him;
But Pilate saith unto them, I find in Him no sin;
Then Jesus came forth, looking dejected and wan,
And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the Man.
Then the Jews cried out, By our laws He ought to die,
Because He made Himself the Son of God the Most High;
And when Pilate heard that saying the Jews had made,
He saw they were dissatisfied, and he was the more afraid.
And to release Jesus Pilate did really intend,
But the Jews cried angrily, Pilate, thou art not Caesar's friend,
Remember, if thou let this vile impostor go,
It only goes to prove thou art Caesar's foe.
When Pilate heard that he felt very irate,
Then he brought Josus forth, and sat down in the judgment-seat,
In a place that is called the Pavement,
While the Blessed Saviour stood calm and content.
The presence of His enemies did not Him appal,
When Pilate asked of Him, before them all,
Whence art Thou, dost say from on High?
But Jesus, the Lamb of God, made no reply.
Then saith Pilate unto Him, Speakest Thou not unto me,
Remember, I have the power to crucify Thee;
But Jesus answered, Thou hast no power at all against me,
Except from above it were given to thee.
Then Pilate to the Jews loudly cried,
Take Him away to be crucified;
Then the soldiers took Jesus and led Him away,
And He, bearing His Cross, without dismay.
And they led Him to a place called Golgotha,
But the Saviour met His fate without any awe,
And there crucified Him with two others, one on either side,
And Jesus in the midst, whilst the Jews did Him deride.
Then Pilate tried to pacify the Jews, they felt so morose,
And he wrote a title, and put it on the Cross;
And the title he wrote did the Jews amuse,
The writing was, Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews.
This title read many of the Jews without any pity;
And the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city;
And the title was written in Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin,
And while reading the title the Jews did laugh and grin.
While on the Cross the sun refused to shine,
And there was total darkness for a long time;
The reason was God wanted to hide His wounds from view,
And He kept the blessed sun from breaking through.
And to quench His thirst they gave Him vinegar and hyssop,
While the blood from His wounded brow copiously did drop,
Then He drank of it willingly, and bowed His head,
And in a few minutes the dear Saviour was dead.
Then Joseph of Arimathea sadly did grieve,
And he asked if Pilate would give him leave
To take the body of Jesus away,
And Pilate told him to remove it without delay.
Then Joseph took the body of Jesus away,
And wound it in linen, which was the Jewish custom of that day,
And embalmed his body with spices sweet,
Then laid it in a new sepulchre, as Joseph thought meet.
But death could not hold Him in the grave,
Because He died poor sinners' souls to save;
And God His Father took Him to Heaven on high;
And those that believe in Jesus shall never die.
Oh! think of the precious Blood our Saviour did loss,
That flowed from His wounds while on the Cross,
Especially the wound in His side, made with a spear,
And if you are a believer, you will drop a silent tear.
And if you are not a believer, try and believe,
And don't let the devil any longer you deceive,
Because the precious Blood that Jesus shed will free you from all sin,
Therefore, believe in the Saviour, and Heaven you shall enter in!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Lord Jesus Is The Answer!
Across this world God's angels fly
As servants of the Lord
And yet not one for us could die,
God's grace to be outpoured...
That's why God sent His precious Son,
To suffer shame and loss,
So all our hopes are pinned upon
Lord Jesus on the Cross...
Across this world God's word is shared
Like sunshine and like rain,
For God so loved the world He cared
And hopes our love to gain...
That's why the Saviour's Blood was shed,
That's why that day He died,
That's why God raised Him from the dead...
Now Christ is glorified!
Across this world the Saviour smiles
At all the saints He's saved,
For He's the King who reconciles
The ones baptised and bathed...
The Alpha Course explains so much!
God's wondrous truths revealed!
Let Jesus Christ reach down and touch
Your soul so you are healed...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
and the Revelation TV Watch Now link
on the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Father Forgive Them
Father, forgive (the Saviour said)
They know not what they do:
His heart was moved when thus he prayed
For me, my friends, and you.
He saw, that as the Jews abused
And crucified his flesh;
So he, by us, would be refused,
And crucified afresh.
Through love of sin, we long were prone
To act as Satan bid;
But now, with grief and shame we own,
We knew not what we did.
We knew not the desert of sin,
Nor whom we thus defied;
Nor where our guilty souls had been,
If Jesus had not died.
We knew not what a law we broke,
How holy, just and pure!
Nor what a God we durst provoke,
But thought ourselves secure.
But Jesus all our guilt foresaw,
And shed his precious blood
To satisfy the holy law,
And make our peace with God.
My sin, dear Saviour, made thee bleed,
Yet didst thou pray for me!
I knew not what I did, indeed,
When ignorant of thee.
poem by John Newton
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Tenth Sunday After Trinity
Why doth my Saviour weep
At sight of Sion's bowers?
Shows it not fair from yonder steep,
Her gorgeous crown of towers?
Mark well His holy pains:
'Tis not in pride or scorn,
That Israel's King with sorrow stains
His own triumphal morn.
It is not that His soul
Is wandering sadly on,
In thought how soon at death's dark goal
Their course will all be run,
Who now are shouting round
Hosanna to their chief;
No thought like this in Him is found,
This were a Conquerer's grief.
Or doth He feel the Cross
Already in His heart,
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss?
Feel e'en His God depart?
No: though He knew full well
The grief that then shall be -
The grief that angels cannot tell -
Our God in agony.
It is not thus He mourns;
Such might be martyr's tears,
When his last lingering look he turns
On human hopes and fears;
But hero ne'er or saint
The secret load might know,
With which His spirit waxeth faint;
His is a Saviour's woe.
"If thou had'st known, e'en thou,
At least in this thy day,
The message of thy peace! but now
'Tis passed for aye away:
Now foes shall trench thee round,
And lay thee even with earth,
And dash thy children to the ground,
Thy glory and thy mirth."
And doth the Saviour weep
Over His people's sin,
Because we will not let Him keep
The souls He died to win?
Ye hearts, that love the Lord,
If at this, sight ye burn,
See that in thought, in deed, in word,
Ye hate what made Him mourn.
poem by John Keble
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Calvary
The Cross of Christ laid on the ground
And Jesus closed His eyes,
His beating heart the only sound
That He could realise...
They held Him down and nailed Him fast
As He screamed out in pain,
His blood ran cold, for now, at last,
He knew He would be slain...
The Cross of Christ was hoisted up,
With Him, the Romans' toy,
They offered Him the drug-filled cup,
Some mercy to employ...
But He refused to dull the ache,
The horror and the fear,
He knew the sacrifice to make
And kept it pure and clear...
The Cross of Christ was where He stayed,
No angels rescued Him,
They humbly watched as Christ obeyed
Before God's seraphim...
The Father stared from Heaven's Throne,
At Christ who wore a crown,
Forced there by Roman hearts of stone,
Now gambling for His gown...
The Cross of Christ was hid from sight
As God's Love looked away
And turned that sacred day to night
As He kept tears at bay...
One angel wept, then all joined in
And God wept tears as well.
This was the sacrifice for sin...
So we'd not go to Hell...
The Cross of Christ was where He died,
That place called Calvary,
That green hill far away supplied,
That haunts eternity...
That day when Mary's heartbeat stopped
In unison yet lived,
That time the Saviour's head had dropped,
With death His precious gift...
The Cross of Christ still bore His Blood,
Though Christ was in His tomb
And God observed that holy flood,
With hatred and with gloom...
Yet Christ had prayed, forgive them all,
They know not what they do...
So God sent preachers like Saint Paul,
Because Christ died... for you...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Blind Bartimaeus
He would not let Jesus pass him by.
Called out to the Saviour with a loud cry.
It was his last chance to be made whole.
For blind from birth was this poor soul.
The crowd rebuked him to keep silent
but he cried out the more for he was intent
not to miss the Lord and let him pass by.
'Have mercy on me' was his loud cry.
Jesus stopped and bid them bring the man.
And jumping to his feet to Jesus he ran.
The Lord then said 'What do you want of me? '
'Rabbi', Bartimaeus said, 'I want to see.'
Immediately Jesus restored his sight
for he had faith that Jesus would put it right.
Then following Jesus along the way
his life had been miraculously changed that day.
As Bartimaeus we too have been born blind
and need like him the Saviour to find.
To cry 'Son of David have mercy on me.
Open my eyes, Lord, I want to see.'
It is at the cross that all can see
the extent of God's love for you and me.
And say to Jesus, 'Saviour hear my cry
while You touch others do not pass me by.'
Based on Mark 10: 46-52
* Spiritually blind