Good Friday reflection

Service Type:

My song is love unknown

My song is love unknown,
my Saviour’s love to me,
love to the loveless shown,
that they might lovely be.
O who am I, that for my sake
my Lord should take frail flesh and die?

He came from his blest throne,
salvation to bestow;
but men cared not, and none
the longed-for Christ would know.
But oh, my Friend, my Friend indeed,
who at my need his life did spend!

Sometimes they strew his way,
and his sweet praises sing;
resounding all the day
hosannas to their King.
Then “Crucify!” is all their breath,
and for his death they thirst and cry.

They rise, and needs will have
my dear Lord sent away;
a murderer they save,
the Prince of Life they slay.
Yet willing he to suff'ring goes,
that he his foes from thence might free.

Here might I stay and sing,
no story so divine;
never was love, dear King,
never was grief like thine.
This is my Friend, in whose sweet praise
I all my days could gladly spend.

Lord for the years

Lord, For the Years Your Love has Kept and Guided,
Urged and Inspired Us, Cheered Us on Our Way,
Sought Us and Saved Us, Pardoned and Provided:
Lord of the Years, We Bring Our Thanks Today.

Lord, for that Word, The Word of Life which Fires Us,
Speaks to Our Hearts and Sets Our Souls Ablaze,
Teaches and Trains, Rebukes Us and Inspires Us:
Lord of the Word, Receive Your People’s Praise.

Lord, For Our Land in this Our Generation,
Spirits Oppressed by Pleasure, Wealth and Care:
for Young and Old, for Commonwealth and Nation,
Lord of Our Land, Be Pleased to Hear Our Prayer.

Lord, For Our World when We Disown and Doubt Him,
Loveless in Strength, and Comfortless in Pain,
Hungry and Helpless, Lost Indeed Without Him:
Lord of the World, We Pray that Christ May Reign.

Timothy Dudley-Smith


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 e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

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.


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