I am waiting at the cross, I am waiting at the cross, I am

waiting at the cross to be saved; I am waiting at the cross, I am

By per E. S. Lorenz, owner of Copyright.

WAITING AT THE CROSS.-Concluded.

waiting at the cross, I am waiting at the cross to be saved.

follies of sin I re-sign; My gra-cious Re- deem er, my
par
don on Cal-va-ry's tree; I love thee for wearing the
long as thou lend - est me breath; And say when the death-dew lies
dore thee in heav en so bright; I'll sing with the glitter-ing

sus, 'tis now.

Saviour art thou, If ever I loved thee, my Je
thorns on thy brow; If ev - er I loved thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
cold on my brow; If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
crown on my brow, If ever I loved thee, my Je sus, 'tis now.
LONDON HYMN BOOK, 1864.

88 SAVE ME NOW.

W. H. RUEBUSH.

2.

1. I am thine, my dear Redeemer-Thou hast bought me with thy blood; I have roamed, a homeless or-phan, Rag-ged, hun-gry, thirst-y, poor, 3. Oh! I lean up on thy bos-om-There a- lone I feel se

cure;

Safe with-in thy arms I'd linger, Sweetly trust-ing in thy
With no friend my soul to com- fort, Begging, sad, from door to
Oth - er refuge gives no com-fort, In thy arms my peace is

love. door.

sure.

Safe within thy arms I'd linger, Jesus, Mas-ter, save me now.
With no friend my soul to com-fort, Jesus, Mas-ter, save me now.
Other refuge gives no com-fort, Jesus, Mas-ter, save me now.

:2

could I sound the glories forth, Which in my Saviour shine!
ransom from the dreadful guilt, Of sin and wrath di- vine;
all the forms of love he wears, Exalted on his throne;
he, dear Lord! will bring me home, And I shall see his face:

I'd

I'd
In

There,

soar and touch the heav'nly strings, And vie with Gabriel while he sings,
sing his glorious righteousness,
loftiest songs of sweetest praise, I
with my Saviour, brother, friend,

In which, all perfect heav'nly dress would to ever last-ing days, A bless-ed eternity I'll spend,

In notes

almost divine,
My soul shall ev er shine,
Make all his glo-ries known,
Triumphant in his grace,

In notes al - most
My soul shall ev
Make all his glo
Tri-umph-ant in

di - vine. er shine. ries known.

his grace. SAMUEL MEDLEY, 1789.

O#

As each day of life, than the last,

er, ter,

er,

Per chance by some blow of what earth calls dis - as
To tell of his love though glad tears gather fast
To give him, like Ma - ry,
my choice al a - bas ter,