Saturday, December 12, 2015

Soul Inspiring Poems

Be gone, ye gilded vanities,
I seek substantial good:
To real bliss my wishes rise—
The favour of my God.

Thy smiles immortal joys impart,
Heaven dawns in ev'ry ray;
One glimpse of thee will cheer my heart,
And turn my night to day.

Not all the good which earth bestows
Can fill the craving mind:
Its highest joys have mingled woes,
And leave a sting behind.

Should boundless wealth increase my store,
Can wealth my cares beguile?
I should be wretched still, and poor,
Without thy blissful smile.

Let the sweet hope that thou art mine,
My life and death attend;
Thy presence through my journey shine,
And crown my journey's end.

Grant, O my Father and my God,
This sweet, this one request;
Be thou my guide to thine abode,
And mine eternal rest.
                        Mrs. Anne Steele
In vain the giddy world inquires,
Forgetful of their God,
“Who will supply our vast desires,
Or show us any good?”

Through the wide circuit of the earth,
Their eager wishes rove,
In chase of honour, wealth, and mirth,
The phantoms of their love.

But oft these shadowy joys elude
Their most intense pursuit:
Or, if they seize the fancied good,
There’s poison in the fruit.

Lord, from this world, call off my love,
Set my affections right;
Bid me aspire to joys above,
And walk no more by sight.

O let the glories of thy face,
Upon my bosom shine;
Assur’d of thy forgiving grace,
My joys will be divine.
I ask’d the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace,
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek more earnestly his face.

‘Twas he who taught me thus to pray,
And he, I trust, has answer’d prayer;
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair.

I hoped that in some favour’d hour,
At once he’d answer my request,
And by his love’s constraining power,
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

Instead of this, he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.

Yea, more, with his own hand he seem’d
Intent to aggravate my woe,
Cross’d all the fair designs I schem’d,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

“Lord, why is this?” I trembling cried:
“Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?”
“‘Tis in this way,” the Lord replied,
“I answer prayer for grace and faith!

“These inward trials I employ,
From self and pride to set thee free:
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me.”
                                   John Newton
Oft have I turn’d my eye within,
And brought to light some latent sin;
But pride, the vice I most detest,
Still lurks securely in my breast.

Here with a thousand arts she tries
To dress me in a fair disguise,
To make a guilty, wretched worm,
Put on an angel’s brightest form.

She hides my follies from mine eyes,
And lifts my virtues to the skies;
And, while the specious tale she tells
Her own deformity conceals.

Rend, O my God, the veil away,
Bring forth the monster to the day;
Expose her hideous form to view,
And all her restless power subdue.

So shall humility divine
Again possess this heart of mine;
And form a temple for my God,
Which he will make his lov’d abode.
                         Dr. S. Stennett

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Soul Inspiring Poems

While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at midnight
there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.”-
Matt. 25:5-6.

How long, O Lord, our Savior,
Wilt Thou remain away?
The careless world is mocking
At Thy so long delay.
Oh, when shall come the moment,
When, brighter far than morn,
The sunshine of Thy glory
Shall on Thy people dawn?

How long, O gracious Master,
Wilt Thou Thy household leave?
So long Thou now hast tarried,
Few Thy return believe:
Immersed in sloth and folly,
Thy servants, Lord, we see;
And few of us stand ready
With joy to welcome Thee.

How long, O Heav’nly Bridegroom!
How long wilt Thou delay?
And yet how few are grieving
That Thou dost absent stay:
Thy very Bride her portion
And calling hath forgot,
And seeks for ease and glory
Where Thou, her Lord, art not.

Oh, wake the slumb’ring virgins,
To heed the solemn cry;
Let all Thy saints repeat it-
“The Bridegroom draweth nigh!”
May all our lamps be burning,
Our loins well girded be;
Each longing heart preparing
With joy Thy face to see.
Ascend, Beloved, to the joy;
The festal day is come:
Tonight the Lamb doth feast his own,
Tonight he with his bride sits down,
Tonight puts on the spousal crown,
In the great upper room.

Ascend, Beloved, to the love;
This is the day of days:
Tonight the bridal-song is sung,
Tonight ten thousand harps are strung,
In sympathy with heart and tongue,
Unto the Lamb's high praise.

The festal lamps are lighted now
In the great marriage-hall;
By angel-hands the board is spread,
By angel-hands the sacred bread
Is on the golden table laid;
The King his own doth call.

The gems are gleaming from the roof,
Like stars in night's round dome;
The festal wreaths are hanging there,
The festal fragrance fills the air,
And flowers of heaven, divinely fair,
Unfold their happy bloom.

Long, long deferred, now come at last,
The Lamb's glad wedding day;
The guests are gathering to the feast,
The seats in heavenly order placed,
The royal throne above the rest;—
How bright the new array!

Sorrow and sighing are no more,
The weeping hours are past;
Tonight the waiting will be done,
Tonight the wedding-robe put on,
The glory and the joy begun;
The crown has come at last.

Without, within, is light, is light;
Around, above, is Love:
We enter, to go out no more,
We raise the song unsung before,
We doff the sackcloth that we wore;
For all is joy above.

Ascend. Beloved, to the life;
Our days of death are o'er;
Mortality has done its worst,
The fetters of the tomb are burst,
The last are now become the first,
For ever, evermore.

Ascend, Beloved, to the feast;
Make haste, thy day has come;
Thrice blest are they, the Lamb doth call,
To share the heavenly festival,
In the new Salem's palace-hall,
Our everlasting home!       
                        Horatius Bonar
God doth not bid thee wait
To disappoint at last;
A golden promise, fair and great,
In precept-mould is cast.
Soon shall the morning gild
The dark horizon-rim,
Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled,
'Wait patiently for Him.'

God doth not bid thee wait
To disappoint at last;
A golden promise, fair and great.
In precept-mould is cast.
Soon shall the morning gild
The dark horizon-rim,
Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled,
'Wait patiently for Him.'

He doth not bid thee wait,
Like drift-wood on the wave,
For fickle chance or fixed fate
To ruin or to save.
Thine eyes shall surely see,
No distant hope or dim,
The Lord thy God arise for thee:
Wait patiently for Him.'
Acts 1:11

'This same Jesus!'  Oh! how sweetly
Fall those words upon the ear,
Like a swell of far off music,
In a nightwatch still and drear!

He who healed the hopeless leper,
He who dried the widow's tear;
He who changed to health and gladness
Helpless suffering, trembling fear;

He who wandered, poor and homeless,
By the stormy Galilee;
He who on the night-robed mountain
Bent in prayer the wearied knee;

He who spake as none had spoken,
Angel-wisdom far above,
All-forgiving, ne'er upbraiding,
Full of tenderness and love;

He who gently called the weary,
'Come and I will give you rest!'
He who loved the little children,
Took them in His arms and blest;

He, the lonely Man of sorrows,
'Neath our sin-curse bending low;
By His faithless friends forsaken
In the darkest hours of woe;—

'This same Jesus!'  When the vision
Of that last and awful day
Bursts upon the prostrate spirit,
Like a midnight lightning ray;

When, else dimly apprehended,
All its terrors seem revealed,
Trumpet knell and fiery heavens,
And the books of doom unsealed;

Then, we lift our hearts adoring
'This same Jesus,' loved and known.
Him, our own most gracious Saviour,
Seated on the great white Throne;

He Himself, and 'not another,'
He for whom our heart-love yearned
Through long years of twilight waiting,
To His ransomed ones returned!

For this word, O Lord, we bless Thee,
Bless our Master's changeless name;
Yesterday, to-day, for ever,
Jesus Christ is still the Same.
Our heavenly Father calls,
And Christ invites us near;
With both our friendship shall be sweet,
And our communion dear.

God pities all our griefs;
He pardons every day;
Almighty to protect our souls,
And wise to guide our way.

How large his bounties are;
What various stores of good,
Diffus'd from our Redeemer's hand,
And purchas'd with his blood!

Jesus, our living Head,
We bless thy faithful care;
Our Advocate before the throne,
And our Forerunner there.

Here fix, my roving heart!
Here wait, my warmest love!
Till the communion be complete
In nobler scenes above.
                                Dr. Doddridge
My soul, with joy attend,
While Jesus silence breaks;
No angel’s harp such music yields
As what my Shepherd speaks.

“I know my sheep,” he cries,
“My soul approves them well:
Vain is the treacherous world’s disguise,
And vain the rage of hell.

“I freely feed them now
With tokens of my love;
But richer pastures I prepare,
And sweeter streams above.

“Unnumber’d years of bliss
I to my sheep will give;
And while my throne unshaken stands,
Shall all my chosen live.

“This tried Almighty hand
Is rais’d for their defence:
Where is the power shall reach them there.
Or what shall force them thence?”

Enough, my gracious Lord,
Let faith triumphant cry;
My heart can on this promise live,
Can on this promise die.
                                     Dr. Doddridge
Afflicted saint, to Christ draw near,
Thy Saviour's gracious promise hear;
His faithful word declares to thee
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Let not thy heart despond, and say,
How shall I stand the trying day?
He has engaged, by firm decree,
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Thy faith is weak, thy foes are strong;
And, if the conflict should be long,
Thy Lord will make the tempter flee;
For, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Should persecution rage and flame,
Still trust in thy Redeemer's name;
In fiery trials thou shalt see
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

When call'd to bear the weighty cross,
Or sore affliction, pain, or loss,
Or deep distress, or poverty—
Still, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

When ghastly death appears in view,
Christ's presence shall thy fears subdue;
He comes to set thy spirit free;
And, as thy days, thy strength shall be.
Kind are the words that Jesus speaks
To cheer the drooping saint;
“My grace sufficient is for you,
Though nature’s powers may faint.

“My grace its glories shall display,
And make your griefs remove:
Your weakness shall the triumphs tell
Of boundless power and love.”

What though my griefs are not remov’d,
Yet why should I despair?
While my kind Saviour’s arms support,
I can the burden bear.

Jesus, my Saviour, and my Lord,
‘Tis good to trust thy name:
Thy power, thy faithfulness, and love,
Will ever be the same.

Weak as I am, yet through thy grace,
I all things can perform:
And, smiling, triumph in thy name
Amid the raging storm.
Ye little flock whom Jesus feeds,
Dismiss your anxious cares;
Look to the Shepherd of your souls,
And smile away your fears.

Though wolves and lions prowl around,
His staff is your defence:
Midst sands and rocks, your Shepherd's voice
Calls streams and pastures thence.

Your Father will a kingdom give,
And give it with delight;
His feeblest child his love shall call
To triumph in his sight.

(Ten thousand praises, Lord, we bring
For sure supports like these:
And o'er the pious dead we sing
Thy living promises.

For all we hope, and they enjoy,
We bless the Saviour's name:
Nor shall that stroke disturb the song
Which breaks this mortal frame.)
                                     Dr. Doddridge
Awake, sweet gratitude! and sing
Th’ ascended Saviour’s love;
Sing how he lives to carry on
His people’s cause above.

With cries and tears, he offer’d up
His humble suit below;
But with authority he asks,
Enthron’'d in glory now.

For all that come to God by him,
Salvation he demands;
Points to their names upon his breast,
And spreads his wounded hands.

His sweet atoning sacrifice
Gives sanction to his claim:
“Father, I will that all my saints
Be with me where I am:

“By their salvation, recompense
The sorrows I endur’d:
Just to the merits of thy Son,
And faithful to thy word.”

Eternal life, at his request,
To every saint is given;
Safety below, and after death,
The plenitude of heaven.

(Founded on right, thy prayer avails;
The Father smiles on thee;
And now thou in thy kingdom art,
Dear Lord, remember me.

Let the much incense of thy prayer
In my behalf ascend;
And, as its virtue, so my praise
Shall never, never end.)
Now let our cheerful eyes survey
Our great High-priest above,
And celebrate his constant care
And sympathetic love.

Though rais’d to a superior throne,
Where angels bow around,
And high o’er all the shining train,
With matchless honours crown’d;

The names of all his saints he bears
Deep graven on his heart;
Nor shall the meanest Christian say
That he hath lost his part.

Those characters shall fair abide,
Our everlasting trust,
When gems, and monuments, and crowns
Are moulder’d down to dust.

So, gracious Saviour! on my breast
May thy dear name be worn,—
A sacred ornament and guard,
To endless ages borne!
                                Dr. Doddridge
Depraved minds on ashes feed,
Nor love nor seek for heavenly bread;
They choose the husks which swine do eat,
Or meanly crave the serpent’s meat.

Jesus! thou art the living bread
By which our needy souls are fed:
In thee alone thy children find
Enough to fill the empty mind.

Without this bread, I starve and die;
No other can my need supply:
But this will suit my wretched case,
Abroad, at home, in every place.

‘Tis this relieves the hungry poor
Who ask for bread at mercy’s door;
This living food descends from heav’n,
As manna to the Jews was giv’n.

This precious food my heart revives;
What strength, what nourishment it gives!
O let me evermore be fed
With this divine celestial bread!
Jesus, the heavenly Lover, gave
His life my wretched soul to save:
Resolv’d to make his mercy known,
He kindly claims me for his own.

Rebellious, I against him strove,
Till melted and constrain’d by love;
With sin and self I freely part,
The heavenly Bridegroom wins my heart.

My guilt, my wretchedness he knows,
Yet takes and owns me for his spouse:
My debts he pays, and sets me free,
And makes his riches o’er to me.

My filthy rags are laid aside,
He clothes me as becomes his bride;
Himself bestows my wedding-dress,—
The robe of perfect righteousness.

Lost in astonishment, I see,
Jesus! thy boundless love to me:
With angels I thy grace adore,
And long to love and praise thee more.

Since thou wilt take me for thy bride,
Saviour, keep me near thy side!
I fain would give thee all my heart,
Nor ever from my Lord depart.
To Christ, the Lord, let every tongue
Its noblest tribute bring:
When he’s the subject of the song,
Who can refuse to sing?

Survey the beauties of his face,
And on his glories dwell;
Think of the wonders of his grace,
And all his triumphs tell.

Majestic sweetness sits enthron’d
Upon his awful brow;
His head with radiant glories crown’d,
His lips with grace o’erflow.

No mortal can with him compare
Among the sons of men:
Fairer he is than all the fair
That fill the heavenly train.

He saw me plung’d in deep distress,
He flew to my relief;
For me he bore the shameful cross;
And carried all my grief.

(His hand a thousand blessings pours
Upon my guilty head;
His presence gilds my darkest hours,
And guards my sleeping bed.

To him I owe my life, and breath,
And all the joys I have:
He makes me triumph over death,
And saves me from the grave.)

To heav’n, the place of his abode,
He brings my weary feet;
Shows me the glories of my God,
And makes my joys complete.

Since from his bounty I receive
Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they should all be thine!
                            Dr. S. Stennett
Jesus, the Lord, our souls adore!
A painful sufferer now no more,
High on his father’s throne he reigns
O’er earth and heaven's extensive plains.

His race for ever is complete!
For ever undisturb’d his seat;
Myriads of angels round him fly,
And sing his well-gain’d victory.

Yet midst the honours of his throne,
He joys not for himself alone!
His meanest servants share their part,
Share in that royal tender heart.

Raise, raise, my soul, thy raptur’d sight,
With sacred wonder and delight;
Jesus, thy own forerunner, see
Enter’d beyond the vale for thee.

Loud let the howling tempest yell,
And foaming waves to mountains swell;
No shipwreck can my vessel fear,
Since hope hath fix’d its anchor here.
                             Dr. Doddridge

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Soul Inspiring Poems

Behold the sons, the heirs of God,
So dearly bought with Jesus' blood?
Are they not born to heavenly joys,
And shall they stoop to earthly toys!

Can laughter feed th' immortal mind!
Were spirits of celestial kind
Made for a jest, for sport and play—
To wear out time, and waste the day?

Doth vain discourse, or empty mirth,
Well suit the honours of their birth?
Shall they be fond of gay attire,
Which children love, and fools admire?

What if we wear the richest vest,
Peacocks and flies are better drest;
This flesh, with all its gaudy forms,
Must drop to dust, and feed the worms.

Lord, raise our hearts and passions higher,
Touch our vain souls with sacred fire;
Then with a heaven directed eye,
We'll pass these glittering trifles by.

We'll look on all the toys below
With such disdain as angels do;
And wait the call that bids us rise
To mansions promis'd in the skies.
                            Dr. Watts
The righteous Lord, supremely great,
Maintains his universal state;
O'er all the earth his power extends,
All heaven before his footstool bends.

Yet justice still with power presides,
And mercy all his empire guides;
Mercy and truth are his delight,
And saints are lovely in his sight.

No more, ye wise! your wisdom boast,
No more, ye strong! your valour trust;
No more, ye rich! survey your store,—
Elate with heaps of shining ore:

Glory, ye saints! in this alone,-
That God, your God, to you is known;
That you have own'd his sovereign sway,-
That you have felt his cheering ray.

Our wisdom, wealth, and power, we find
In one Jehovah all combin'd;
On him we fix our roving eyes,
And all our souls in raptures rise.

All else, which we our treasure call,
May in one fatal moment fall;
But what their happiness can move,
Whom God, the blessed, deigns to love?
                Dr. Doddridge
One prayer I have,—all prayers in one,
When I am wholly Thine;
Thy will, my God, Thy will be done,
And let that will be mine.

All-wise, all-mighty, and all-good,
In Thee I firmly trust;
Thy ways, unknown or understood,
Are merciful and just.

Is life with many comforts crown'd,
Upheld in peace and health,
With dear affections twined around,
Lord, in my time of wealth,—

May I remember, that to Thee,
Whate'er I have I owe;
And back in gratitude from me,
May all Thy bounties flow.

Thy gifts are only then enjoy'd,
When used as talents lent;
Those talents only well employed,
When in Thy service spent.

And though Thy wisdom takes away,
Shall I arraign Thy will?
No, let me bless Thy name, and say,
''The Lord is gracious still.''

A pilgrim through the earth I roam,
Of nothing long possest,
And all must fail when I go home,
For this is not my rest.

Write but my name upon the roll
Of Thy redeem'd above,
Then heart, and mind, and strength and soul,
I'll love Thee for Thy love.
Give us our daily bread,
O God, the bread of strength;
For we have learned to know
How weak we are at length;
As children we are weak.
As children must be fed;
Give us thy grace, O Lord,
To be our daily bread.

Give us our daily bread.
The bitter bread of grief;
We sought earth's poisoned feasts,
For pleasure and relief:
We sought her deadly fruits,
But now, O God, instead,
We ask thy healing grief
To be our daily bread.

Give us our daily bread
To cheer our fainting soul;
The feast of comfort. Lord,
And peace to make us whole:
For we are sick of tears.
The useless tears we shed;
Now give us comfort, Lord,
To be our daily bread.

Give us our daily bread,
The bread of angels, Lord,
By us so many times
Broken, betrayed, adored;
His body and his blood,
The feast that Jesus spread,
Give him, our Life, our All,
To be our daily bread.
             Miss Adelaide Anne Procter 
Purer yet and purer
I would be in mind,
Dearer yet and dearer
Ev'ry duty find;
Hoping still and trusting
God without a fear,
Patiently believing
He will make all clear.

Calmer yet and calmer
In the hours of pain,
Surer yet and surer
Peace at last to gain;
Suffring still and doing,
To His will resigned,
And to God subduing
Heart and will and mind.
Higher yet and higher
Out of clouds and night,
Nearer yet and nearer
Rising to the light-
Light serene and holy,
Where my soul may rest,
Purified and lowly,
Sanctified and blest.
Swifter yet and swifter
Ever onward run,
Firmer yet and firmer
Step as I go on;
Oft these earnest longings
Swell within my breast,
Yet their inner meaning
Ne'er can be express'd.
More like Jesus would I be;
Let my Saviour dwell with me,
Fill my soul with peace and love,
Make me gentle as a dove;
More like Jesus while I go,
Pilgrim in this world below;
Poor in Spirit would I be—
Let my Saviour dwell in me.

If he hears the raven's cry;
If his ever watchful eye
Marks the sparrows when they fall,
Surely he will hear my call,
He will teach me how to live,
All my simple thoughts forgive;
Pure in heart I still would be—
Let my Saviour dwell in me.

More like Jesus when I pray.
More like Jesus day by day;
May I rest me by his side,
Where the tranquil waters glide;
Born of him, thro' grace renew'd,
By his love my will subdued,
Rich in faith I still would be—
Let my Saviour dwell in me.
                          Fanny J. Crosby
I am Thine, 0 Lord, I have heard Thy voice,
And it told Thy love to me;
But I long to rise in the arms of faith,
And be closer drawn to Thee.

Consecrate me now to Thy service, Lord,
By the power of grace divine;
May my soul look up with a steadfast hope
And my will be lost in Thine.

O the pure delight of a single hour
That before Thy throne I spend,
When I kneel in prayer, and with Thee, my God,
I commune as friend with friend!

There are depths of love that I cannot know
Till I cross the narrow sea;
There are heights of joy that I may not reach
Till I rest in peace with Thee.

Draw me nearer, nearer, blessed Lord,
To the cross where Thou hast died;
Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer blessed Lord,
To Thy precious, bleeding side.
                     Fanny J. Crosby
Live out Thy life within me,
O Jesus, King of kings!
Be Thou Thyself the answer
To all my questionings;
Live out Thy life within me,
In all things have Thy way!
I, the transparent medium
Thy glory to display.

The temple has been yielded,
And purified of sin;
Let Thy Shekinah glory 
Now shine forth from within,
And all the earth keep silence,
The body henceforth be
Thy silent, gentle servant,
Moved only as by Thee.

Its members ev’ry moment
Held subject to Thy call,
Ready to have Thee use them,
Or not be used at all;
Held without restless longing,
Or strain, or stress, or fret,
Or chafings at Thy dealings,
Or thoughts of vain regret.

But restful, calm and pliant,
From bend and bias free,
Awaiting Thy decision,
When Thou hast need of me.
Live out Thy life within me,
O Jesus, King of kings!
Be Thou the glorious answer
To all my questionings.  
               Frances R. Havergal  
O! tell me, Thou life and delight of my soul,
Where the flock of Thy pasture are feeding;
I seek Thy protection, I need Thy control,
I would go where my Shepherd is leading.

O! tell me the place where Thy flock are at rest,
Where the noontide will find them reposing?
The tempest now rages, my soul is distress'd,
And the pathway of peace I am losing.

O! why should I stray with the flocks of Thy foes,
'Mid the desert where now they are roving,
Where hunger and thirst, where affliction and woes,
And temptations their ruin are proving?

O! when shall my foes and my wandering cease?
And the follies that fill me with weeping!
Thou Shepherd of Israel, restore me that peace
Thou dost give to the flock Thou art keeping.

A voice from the Shepherd now bids thee return
By the way where the footprints are lying:
No longer to wander, no longer to mourn;
O fair one, now homeward be flying!
                                 T. Hastings
Through the night of doubt and sorrow,
Onward goes the pilgrim band,
Singing songs of expectation,
Marching to the promised land.
Clear before us, through the darkness,
Gleams and burns the guiding light;
Brother clasps the hand of brother.
Stepping fearless through the night.

One the light of God's own presence,
O'er his ransomed people shed,
Chasing far the gloom and terror.
Brightening all the path we tread:
One the object of our journey,
One the faith which never tires,
One the earnest looking forward,
One the hope our God inspires.

One the strain the lips of thousands
Lift as from the heart of one;
One the conflict, one the peril,
One the march in God begun:
One the gladness of rejoicing
On the far eternal shore,
Where the one Almighty Father
Reigns in love for evermore.
                     Bernhardt Severin Ingemann
                            Tr. by S. Baring-Gould
I am a passing stranger here;
A traveller hastening on
Through scenes which quickly, disappear
E'en while I gaze they're gone.

This gay and busy world would strive
My footsteps to detain:
But the poor pleasures she can give
Are transient all and vain.

O! there's a different world above,
On which I fix my eye:
A world of happiness and love,
Of truth and purity.

Admitted there I fain would be;
Thither my steps I turn.
E'en now, far off, its light I see,
Its glories I discern.

E'en now I almost seem to hear
The voice of many a friend
Once lov'd on earth, rejoicing there,
Who o'er me fondly bend.

And thus, with one accord, they cry,
"O! linger not below!
Turn from that world thine heart, thine eye!
Then thou our bliss shalt know."

Then once again, vain world! to thee
I bid a long farewell:
In heart a pilgrim I will be,
Till there with them I dwell.
                                       Charlotte Elliott
What though my frail eyelids refuse
Continual watching to keep,
And still with the night's falling dews
Demand the refreshment of sleep;

A sovereign Protector I have,
Unseen, yet for ever at hand,
Unchangeably faithful to save,
Almighty to rule and command.

Inspirer and Hearer of prayer,
Thou Shepherd and Guardian of Thine,
My all to Thy covenant care
I sleeping and waking resign.

If Thou art my Shield and my Sun,
The night is no darkness to me,
And fast as my moments roll on,
They bring me but nearer to Thee.

Thy ministering spirits descend
To watch while Thy saints are asleep;
By day and by night they attend,
The heirs of salvation to keep.
Thy worship no interval knows,
Their fervour is still on the wing;
And, while they protect my repose,
They chant to the praise of my King.

I too, at the season ordained,
Their chorus for ever shall join,
And love and adore, without end,
Their faithful Creator and mine.
            A. M. Toplady
What shall we be, and whither shall we go,
When the last conflict of our life is o'er,
And wo return, from wandering to and fro,
To our dear home, through heaven's eternal door,
When we shake off the last dust from our feet,
When we wipe off the last drop from our brow,
And our departed friends once more shall greet,—
The hope which cheers and comforts us below?

What shall we be, when we ourselves shall see
Bathed in the flood of everlasting light,
And, from all guilt and sin entirely free,
Stand pure and blameless in our Maker's sight,
No longer from His holy presence driven,
Conscious of guilt and stung with inward pain,
But friends of God and citizens of heaven,
To join the ranks of His celestial train?

What shall we be, when we drink in the sound
Of heavenly music from the spheres above,
When golden harps to listening hosts around
Declare the wonders of redeeming love,
When far and wide, through the resounding air,
Loud hallelujahs from the ransomed rise,
And holy incense, sweet with praise and prayer,
Is wafted to the Highest through the skies?

What shall we be, when every glance we cast
At the dark valley underneath our feet,
And every retrospect of troubles past
Makes heaven brighter, and its joys more sweet,
When the remembrance of our former woe
Gives a new relish to our present peace,
And draws our heart to Him to whom we owe
Our part deliverance and our present bliss?

What shall we be, who have in Christ believed?
What, through His grace, shall be our sweet reward?
Eye hath not seen, ear heard, or heart conceived
What God for those who love Him hath prepared.
Let us the steep ascent then boldly climb;
Our toil and labour will be well repaid;
Let us haste onward, till in God's good time
We reap the fruit—a crown that doth not fade.
        C. J. P. Spitta, trans by H. Massie
We’ve no abiding city here:
This may distress the worldling's mind,
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

We've no abiding city here:
Sad truth, were this to be our home;
But let this thought our spirit cheer,
We seek a city yet to come.

We've no abiding city here:
Then let us live as pilgrims do;
Let not the world our rest appear,
But let us haste from all below.

We've no abiding city here:
We seek a city out of sight;
Zion its name; the Lord is there;
It shines with everlasting light.

Zion—Jehovah is her strength;
Secure she smiles at all her foes;
And weary travellers at length
Within her sacred walls repose.

O sweet abode of peace and love,
Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest!
Had I the pinions of a dove,
I'd fly to thee and be at rest.

But hush, my soul, nor dare repine,
The time my God appoints is best;
While here, to do His will be mine,
And His, to fix my time of rest.
                T. Kelly
We have not known Thee as we ought,
Nor learned Thy wisdom, grace, and power;
The things of earth have filled our thought,
And trifles of the passing hour:
Lord, give us light Thy truth to see,
And make us wise in knowing Thee.

We have not feared Thee as we ought,
Nor bowed beneath Thine awful eye,
Nor guarded deed and word and thought
Remembering that God was nigh:
Lord, give us faith to know Thee near,
And grant the grace of holy fear.

We have not loved Thee as we ought,
Nor cared that we are loved by Thee:
Thy presence we have coldly sought
And feebly longed Thy face to see:
Lord, give a pure and loving heart
To feel and know the Love Thou art.

We have not served Thee as we ought;
Alas! the duties left undone,
The work with little fervour wrought,
The battles lost, or scarcely won!
Lord, give the zeal and give the might,
For Thee to toil, for Thee to fight.

When shall we know Thee as we ought,
And fear and love and serve aright?
When shall we, out of trial brought,
Be perfect in the land of light?
Lord, may we day by day prepare
To see Thy face and serve Thee there.
            T. B. Pollock
We come to Thee, dear Saviour,
Just because we need Thee so;
None need Thee more than we do;
None are half so vile and low.

We come to Thee, dear Saviour,
With our broken faith again:
We know Thou wilt forgive us,
Nor upbraid us, nor complain.

We come to Thee, dear Saviour;
It is love that makes us come;
We are certain of our welcome,
Of our Father's welcome home.

We come to Thee, dear Saviour;
Fear brings us in our need;
For Thy hand never breaketh
E'en the frailest bruised reed.

We come to Thee, dear Saviour;
For to whom, Lord, can we go?
The words of life eternal
From Thy lips for ever flow.

We come to Thee, dear Saviour;
And Thou wilt not ask us why;
We cannot live without Thee,
And still less without Thee die.
              F. W. Faber
Tossed with rough winds and faint with fear,
Above the tempest, soft and clear,
What still small accents greet mine ear?—
     ‘’Tis I; be not afraid.

’Tis I, who washed thy spirit white;
’Tis I, who gave thy blind eyes sight;’
’Tis I, thy Lord, thy life, thy light:
     ’Tis I; be not afraid.

’These raging winds, this surging sea,
Have spent their deadly force on Me:
They bear no breath of wrath to thee:
     ’Tis I; be not afraid.

’This bitter cup, I drank it first;
To thee it is no draught accurst;
The hand that gives it thee is pierced:
     ’Tis I; be not afraid.

’Mine eyes are watching by thy bed.
Mine arms are underneath thy head,
My blessing is around thee shed:
     ’Tis I; be not afraid.

When on the other side thy feet
Shall rest, ’mid thousand welcomes sweet,
One well-known voice thy heart shall greet:
     ’Tis I: be not afraid.’
                         E. Charles
Simply trusting every day,
Trusting through a stormy way;
Even when my faith is small,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

Brightly doth His Spirit shine
Into this poor heart of mine;
While He leads I cannot fall,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

Singing, if my way be clear;
Praying, if the path be drear;
If in danger, for Him call;
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

Trusting Him while life shall last,
Trusting Him till earth be past,
Till within the jasper wall;
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

Trusting as the moments fly,
Trusting as the days go by;
Trusting Him whate'er befall,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.
               E. Page Stiles
Seek ye first, not earthly pleasure,
Fading joy and failing treasure,
But the love that knows no measure
    Seek ye first; seek ye first.

Seek ye first, not earth's aspirings,
Ceaseless longings, vain desirings,
But your precious soul's requirings
    Seek ye first; seek ye first.

Seek ye first God's peace and blessing;
Ye have all if this possessing;
Come, your need and sin confessing,
    Seek Him first  seek Him first.

Seek Him first; then—when forgiven,
Pardoned, made an heir of heaven—
Let your life to Him be given:
    Seek this first ; seek this first.

Seek this first,—be pure and holy,
Like the Master, meek and lowly,
Yielded to His service wholly,
    Seek this first; seek this first.

Seek the coming of His kingdom,
Seek the souls around to win them,
Seek to Jesus Christ to bring them;
    Seek this first; seek this first.

Seek this first:—His promise trying,—
(It is sure, all need supplying,)
Heavenly things,—on Him relying,—
    Seek ye first; seek ye first.
                 G. M. Taylor 
On Thee my heart is resting,
Ah, this is rest indeed!
What else, Almighty Saviour,
Can a poor sinner need?
Thy light is all my wisdom,
Thy love is all my stay,
Our Father's home in glory
Draws nearer every day.

My guilt is great, but greater
The mercy Thou dost give;
Thyself, a spotless Offering,
Hast died that I should live.
With Thee my soul unfettered
Has risen from the dust;
Thy blood is all my treasure,
Thy word is all my trust.

Through me, Thou gentle Master,
Thy purposes fulfil;
I yield myself for ever
To Thy most holy will.
What though I be but weakness,
My strength is not in me;
The poorest of Thy people
Has all things, having Thee.

When clouds are darkest round me,
Thou, Lord, art then most near,
My drooping faith to quicken,
My weary soul to cheer.
Safe sheltered in Thy bosom,
I gaze upon Thy face;
In vain my foes would drive me
From Thee my hiding place.

'Tis Thou hast made me happy,
'Tis Thou hast set me free;
To whom shall I give glory
For ever, but to Thee?
Of earthly love and blessing
Should every stream run dry,
Thy grace shall still be with me,
Thy grace, to live and die.
            T. Monod
Oh Thou that hear'st the prayer of faith,
Wilt Thou not save a soul from death
That casts itself on Thee?
I have no refuge of my own,
But fly to what my Lord hath done,
And suffered once for me.

Slain in the guilty sinner's stead,
His spotless righteousness I plead,
And His availing blood;
That righteousness my robe shall be,
That merit shall atone for me,
And bring me near to God.

Then save me from eternal death,
The Spirit of adoption breathe,
His consolations send;
By Him some word of life impart.
And sweetly whisper to my heart—
'Thy Maker is thy Friend.'
            A. M. Toplady
O sweet home echo on the pilgrim's way,
Thrice welcome message from a land of light!
As through a clouded sky the moonbeams stray,
So on Eternity's deep shrouded night
Streams a mild radiance, from that cheering word,
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'

At home with Jesus! He who went before,
For His own people mansions to prepare;
The soul's deep longings stilled, its conflicts o'er,
All rest and blessedness with Jesus there.—
What home like this can the wide earth afford?
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'

With Him all gathered! to that blessed home,
Through all its windings, still the pathway tends;
While ever and anon bright glimpses come
Of that fair city where the journey ends;
Where all of bliss is centred in one word,
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'

Here, kindred hearts are severed far and wide,
By many a weary mile of land and sea,
Or life's all-varied cares, and paths divide;—
But yet a joyful gathering shall be,
The broken links repaired, the lost restored;
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'

And is there ever perfect union here?
Ah! daily sins lamented and confest,
They come between us and the friends most dear,
They mar our blessedness and break our rest.
With life we leave the evils long deplored;
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'
All prone to error—none set wholly free
From the old serpent's soul-ensnaring chain,
The truths one child of God can clearly see,
He seeks to make his brother feel in vain;
But all shall harmonize in heaven's full chord,
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'

O precious promise, mercifully given,
Well may it hush the wail of earthy woe;
O'er the dark passage to the gates of heaven
The light of hope and resurrection throw!
Thanks for the blessed, life-inspiring word,
'So shall we be for ever with the Lord.'
          M. Hauser, trans by J. L. Borthwick
A pilgrim and a stranger
I journey here below;
Far distant is my country,
The home to which I go.
Here I must toil and travel,
Oft weary and opprest,
But there my God shall lead me
To everlasting rest.

It is a well-worn pathway,
Many have gone before;
The holy saints and prophets,
The patriarchs of yore:
They trod the toilsome journey
In patience and in faith,
And them I fain would follow,
Like them in life and death.

Who would share Abraham's blessing
Must Abraham's path pursue;
A stranger and a pilgrim,
Like him, must journey through.
The foes must be encountered,
The dangers must be passed;
Only a faithful soldier
Receives the crown at last.

So I must hasten forwards,—
Thank God, the end will come;
This land of my sojourning
Is not my destined home.
That evermore abideth,
Jerusalem above,
The everlasting city,
The land of light and love.

There still my thoughts are dwelling,
'Tis there I long to be:
Come, Lord, and call Thy servant
To blessedness with Thee.
Come, bid my toils be ended,
Let all my wanderings cease;
Call from the wayside lodging
To the sweet home of peace.

There I shall dwell for ever,
No more a stranger guest,
With all Thy blood-bought children
In everlasting rest;
The pilgrim toils forgotten,
The pilgrim conflicts o'er,
All earthly griefs behind us,
Eternal joys before.
            P. Gerhardt 
Change is our portion here;
Soon fades the summer sky,
The landscape droops in autumn sear,
And spring flowers bloom to die:
But faithful is Jehovah's word,
'I will be with thee,' saith the Lord.

Change is our portion here,
Along the heavenly road,
In faith and hope and holy fear,
In love towards our God:
How often we distrust the word,
'I will be with thee,' saith the Lord.

Change is our portion here:
Yet midst our changing lot,
Midst withering flowers and tempests drear,
There is that changes not.
Unchangeable Jehovah's word,
'I will be with thee,' saith the Lord.

Changeless, the way of peace;
Changeless, Immanuel's name;
Changeless, the covenant of grace;
Eternally the same.
'I change not,' is a Father's word,
'And I am with thee,' saith the Lord.
            J. H. Evans
Children of light, arise and shine!
Your birth, your hopes, are all divine;
Your home is in the skies:
Oh then, for heavenly glory born,
Look down on all with holy scorn
That earthly spirits prize.

With Christ, with glory full in view,
Oh, what is all the world to you?
What is it all but loss?
Come on, then; cleave no more to earth,
Nor wrong your high celestial birth,
Ye pilgrims of the cross.

The cross is ours; we bear it now;
But did not He beneath it bow,
And suffer there at last?
All that we feel can Jesus tell;
His gracious soul remembers well
The sorrows of the past.

Blessed Lord, we yet shall reign,
Redeemed from sorrow, sin, and pain,
And walk with Thee in white.
We suffer now, but oh ! at last
We'll bless Thee, Lord, for all the past,
And own our cross was light.
                   E. Denny 
How many sheep are straying,
Lost from the Saviour's fold!
Upon the lonely mountain
They shiver with the cold;
Within the tangled thickets,
Where poison vines do creep,
And over rocky ledges
Wander the poor lost sheep.

Oh who will go to find them?
Who, for the Saviour's sake,
Will search, with tireless patience,
Through briar and through brake?
Unheeding thirst or hunger,
Who still, from day to day,
Will seek, as for a treasure,
The sheep that go astray!

Say, will you seek to find them?
From pleasant bowers of ease,
Will you go forth determined
To find the least of these?
For still the Saviour calls them,
And looks across the world,
And still He holds wide open
The door into His fold.

How sweet 'twould be at evening,
If you and I could say,—
'Good Shepherd, we've been seeking
The sheep that went astray!
Heartsore and faint with hunger,
We heard them making moan,
And, lo! we come at nightfall
And bear them safely home.'

Oh come, let us go and find them,
In the paths of death they roam;
At the close of the day, 'twill be sweet to say,-
'I have brought some lost one home.'
                E. H. Gates
I have a home above,
From sin and sorrow free;
A mansion which eternal love
Designed and formed for me:

My Father's gracious hand
Has built this sweet abode;
From everlasting it was planned,
My dwelling place with God.

My Saviour's precious blood
Has made my title sure;
He passed through death's dark raging flood,
To make my rest secure.

The Comforter is come,
The earnest has been give;
He leads me onward to the home
Reserved for me in heaven.

Bright angels guard my way;
His ministers of power,
Encamping round me night and day,
Preserve in danger's hour.

Loved ones are gone before,
Whose pilgrim days are done;
I soon shall greet them on that shore
Where partings are unknown.

Thy love, most gracious Lord,
My joy and strength shall be,
Till Thou shalt speak the gladdening word
That bids me rise to Thee.

And then through endless days,
Where all Thy glories shine,
In happier, holier strains I'll praise
The grace that made me Thine.
                             H. Bennett
I was a wandering sheep,
I did not love the fold
I did not love my Shepherd's voice,
I would not be controlled.
I was a wayward child,
I did not love my home;
I did not love my Father's voice,
I loved afar to roam.

The Shepherd sought His sheep,
The Father sought His child;
They followed me o'er vale and hill,
O'er deserts waste and wild.
They found me nigh to death,
Famished, and faint, and lone;
They bound me with the bands of love.
They saved the wandering one.

Jesus my Shepherd is,
'Twas He that loved my soul,
'Twas He that washed me in His blood,
'Twas He that made me whole.
'Twas He that sought the lost,
That found the wandering sheep;
'Twas He that brought me to the fold,
'Tis He that still doth keep.

I was a wandering sheep,
I would not be controlled;
But now I love my Shepherd's voice,
I love, I love the fold!
I was a wayward child,
I once preferred to roam;
But now I love my Father's voice,
I love, I love His home!
              H. Bonar
Jehovah is our strength,
And, He shall be our song;
We shall o'ercome at length,
Although our foes be strong;
In vain doth Satan then oppose,
The Lord is stronger than His foes.
The Lord our refuge is,
And ever will remain;
Since He hath made us His,
He will our cause maintain;
In vain our enemies oppose,
For God is stronger than His foes.

The Lord our portion is;
What can we wish for more?
As long as we are His,
We never can be poor:
In vain do earth and hell oppose,
For God is stronger than His foes.

The Lord our Shepherd is;
He knows our every need;
And since we now are His,
His care our souls will feed:
In vain do sin and death oppose,
For God is stronger than His foes.

Our God our Father is;
Our names are on His heart:
We ever shall be His;
He ne'er from us will part:
In vain the world and flesh oppose,
For God is stronger than His foes.
             S. Barnard
King of Saints, to whom the number
Of Thy starry host is known,
Many a name, by man forgotten,
Lives for ever round Thy throne;

Lights, which earth-born mists have darkened,
There are shining full and clear,
Princes in the court of heaven,
Nameless, unremembered here.

How they toiled for Thee and suffered
None on earth can now record;
All their saintly life is hidden
In the knowledge of their Lord.

All is veiled from us, but written
In the Lamb's great book of life,
All the faith, and prayer, and patience,
All the toiling, and the strife;

There are told Thy hidden treasures;
Number us, Lord, with them,
When Thou makest up the jewels
Of Thy living diadem.
                    J. Ellerton 
Lamb of God, whose love for me
Was revealed on Calvary:
Jesus, by whose precious blood
Sinners are brought nigh to God,
Gracious Saviour, be Thou near,
Jesus, Friend of sinners, hear!

I have nothing, Lord, to plead,
But Thou knowest all my need;
Want and poverty are mine,
Grace to satisfy is Thine:
Gracious Saviour, be Thou near,
Jesus, Friend of sinners, hear!

Helpless, I before Thee stand,
Lord, support me by Thy hand;
Destitute of grace am I,
But Thou hast a rich supply:
Gracious Saviour, be Thou near,
Jesus, Friend of sinners, hear!

By Thy blood my sin remove,
Bless me, Saviour, with Thy love;
By Thy grace and mercy keep
Evermore Thy helpless sheep:
Gracious Saviour, be Thou near,
Jesus, Friend of sinners, hear!
                 L. C. P.
Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
    Lead Thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
    Lead Thou me on:
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
    Should'st lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
    Lead Thou me on;
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will; remember not past years.

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
    Will lead me on
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
    The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
                                      J. H. Newman
Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us
O'er the world's tempestuous sea;
Guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us,
For we have no help but Thee,
    Yet possessing
    Every blessing,
If our God our Father be.

Saviour, breathe forgiveness o'er us;
All our weakness Thou dost know;
Thou didst tread this earth before us,
Thou didst feel its keenest woe;
    Lone and dreary,
    Faint and weary,
Through the desert Thou didst go.

Spirit of our God, descending,
Fill our hearts with holy joy;
Heavenward as our stops are tending,
Pleasures give that never cloy:
    Thus provided,
    Pardoned, guided,
Nothing can our peace destroy.
             J. Edmeston
Leaning on Thee, my Guide, my Friend,
My gracious Saviour, I am blest:
Though weary, Thou dost condescend
    To be my rest.

Leaning on Thee, my soul retires
From earthly thoughts and earthly things;
On Thee concentrates her desires,
    To Thee she clings.

Leaning on Thee, with child-like faith,
To Thee the future I confide:
Each step of life's untrodden path
    Thy love will guide.

Leaning on Thee, I breathe no moan,
Though faint with languor, parched with heat;
Thy will has now become my own:
    That will is sweet.

Leaning on Thee, midst torturing pain,
With patience Thou my soul dost fill;
Thou whisperest, 'What did I sustain!'—
    Then I am still.

Leaning on Thee, I do not dread
The havoc that disease may make:
Thou who for me Thy blood hast shed
    Wilt ne'er forsake.

Leaning on Thee, though faint and weak,
Too weak another voice to hear,
Thy heavenly accents comfort speak,—
    'Be of good cheer.'

Leaning on Thee, no fear alarms;
Calmly I stand on death's dark brink;
I feel the everlasting arms:—
    I cannot sink.
                           C. Elliott
Let me be with Thee where Thou art,
My Saviour, my eternal Rest;
Then only will this longing heart
Be fully and for ever blest.

Let me be with Thee where Thou art.
Thy unveiled glory to behold;
Then only will this wandering heart
Cease to be treacherous, faithless, cold.

Let me be with Thee where Thou art,
Where spotless saints Thy name adore;
Then only will this sinful heart
Be evil and denied no more.

Let me be with Thee where Thou art,
Where none can die, where none remove;
There neither death nor life will part
Me from Thy presence and Thy love.
                    C. Elliott
Let my life be hid with Thee,
Gracious Saviour, Lord of might,
Saved from sin, from dangers free,
Lightened by Thy perfect light.

Let my life be hid with Thee,
When my raging foes abound,
Covered by Thy panoply,
Safe within Thy holy ground.

Let my life be hid with Thee,
When my soul is vexed below;
Let me still Thy mercy see,
When bowed down by grief and woe.

Let my life be hid with Thee,
When in death I sink and fail,
Lest my raging enemy
In that dying hour prevail.

Let my life be hid with Thee,
Bound within Thy life above,
Living through eternity,
In the realms of peace and love.
             J. Bull
Long did I toil and knew no earthly rest;
Far did I rove and found no certain home;
At last I sought them in His sheltering breast,
Who opes His arms and bids the weary come:
With Him I found a home, a rest divine,
And I since then am His and He is mine.

Yes, He is mine, and nought of earthly things,
Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power,
The fame of heroes or the pomp of kings,
Could tempt me to forego His love an hour:
Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine;
Go! I my Saviour's am and He is mine.

The good I have is from His stores supplied;
The ill is only what He deems the best;
He for my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside,
And poor without Him, though of all possest:
Changes may come; I take or I resign,
Content while I am His, while He is mine.

Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen,
A glorious Sun that wanes not nor declines;
Above the clouds and storms He walks serene.
And sweetly on His people's darkness shines:
All may depart, I fret not nor repine,
While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine.

He stays me falling, lifts me up when down.
Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe;
Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown,
Which, in return, before His feet I throw.
Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine,
Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine.

While here, alas! I know but half His love,
But half discern Him and but half adore;
But when I meet Him in the realms above,
I hope to love Him better, praise Him more.
And feel and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am His and He is mine.
                               H. F. Lyte
Looking unto Jesus
With the eye of faith,
Telling Him our troubles,
Hearing what He saith,
Like the day-spring stealing
Through the shades of night,
Silently it turneth
Darkness into light.

Looking unto Jesus
In a sweet accord
Knitteth the disciple
To the absent Lord:
To our souls' complaining
Jesus giveth heed,
Pouring out His fulness
Over all our need.

Looking unto Jesus
In the stormy day,
We shall see His Spirit
Sent to cheer our way:
Looking unto Jesus
When the storms retreat,
He will be our shelter
From the noontide heat.

Wandering through the desert,
Where no fountains be,
There's a Rock which follows,
And that Rock is He:
When the fainting pilgrim
Fails for lack of meat,
Jesus freely giveth
Angels' food to eat.

Look we unto Jesus
From the bed of pain:
As a suffering brother,
Jesus will sustain.
Look we still to Jesus
In the hour of death:
Lo, the everlasting
Arms are underneath.

When the saint in glory
In His presence stands,
Sees his name imprinted
On His wounded hands,
Sees his blood-bought title
On His breast engraven,
Looking unto Jesus
Opes the gate of heaven.
        J. Crewdson
Lord God, by whom all change is wrought,
By whom new things to birth are brought,
In whom no change is known:
Whate'er Thou dost, whate'er Thou art,
Thy people still in Thee have part;
Still, still Thou art our own.

Ancient of Days! we dwell in Thee:
Out of Thine own eternity
Our peace and joy are wrought;
We rest in our eternal God,
And make secure and sweet abode
With Thee, who changest not.

Each steadfast promise we possess;
Thine everlasting truth we bless,
Thine everlasting love;
The unfailing Helper close we clasp,
The everlasting arms we grasp,
Nor from the refuge move.

Spirit, who makest all things new,
Thou leadest onward; we pursue
The heavenly march sublime;
With Thy renewing fire we glow,
And still from strength to strength we go,
From height to height we climb.

Darkness and dread we leave behind,
New light, new glory, still we find,
New realms divine possess:
New births of grace new raptures bring;
Triumphant, the new song we sing,
The great Renewer bless.

To Thee we rise, in Thee we rest;
We stay at home, we go in quest,
Still Thou art our abode:
The rapture swells, the wonder grows,
As full on us new life still flows
From our unchanging God.
                                     T. H. Gill
Lord God, in Thee confiding,
Our faith all fear dispels;
With joy, in Thee abiding,
Our heart exulting swells;
Thus singing we adore Thee,
The high and holy One,
And joyfully before Thee
The path of duty run.

Thou, Lord, who changest never
Through all eternity,
Hast made us Thine for ever,
Thy flock secure in Thee;
Thy rod and staff possessing,
We smile at every foe;
The rivers of Thy blessing
Around our pasture flow.

Thy love our voice upraises
In grateful hymns of joy,
And our unceasing praises
Shall endless life employ;
For grace and justice blending,
Unchangeably the same,
And mercy, never ending,
Unite in Jesu's name.
           Henry Moule
Lord Jesus, are we one with Thee?
O height, depth of love!
Thou one with us on Calvary,
We one with Thee above.

Such was Thy love, that for our sake
Thou didst from heaven come down,
Our mortal flesh and blood partake,
In all our misery one.

Our sins, our guilt, in love divine,
Confessed and borne by Thee;
The sting, the curse, the wrath were Thine,
To set Thy members free.

Ascended now in glory bright,
Still one with us Thou art;
Nor life, nor death, nor depth, nor height
Thy saints and Thee can part.

Ere long shall come that glorious day,
When, seated on Thy throne,
Thou shalt to wondering worlds display
That we in Thee are one.
                                  J. G. Deck
LORD Jesus, Thou dost keep Thy child
Through sunshine or through tempests wild;
    Jesus, I trust in Thee:
Thine is such wondrous power to save,
Thine is the mighty love that gave
    Its all on Calvary.

O glorious Saviour! Thee I praise;
To Thee my new glad song I raise,
    And tell of what Thou art:
Thy grace is boundless in its store;
Thy face of love shines evermore:
    Thou givest me Thy heart.

Upon Thy promises I stand,
Trusting in Thee; Thine own right hand
    Doth keep and comfort me:
My soul doth triumph in Thy word;
Thine, Thine be all the praise, dear Lord,
    As Thine the victory.

Love perfecteth what it begins;
Thy power doth save me from my sins—
    Thy grace upholdeth me.
This life of trust—how glad, how sweet!
My need and Thy great fulness meet,
    And I have all in Thee.
                            J. S. Pigott 
Lord, Thou knowest all the hunger
Of the heart that seeks Thee now;
How my soul hath long been craving
What Thou only canst bestow.
    Seeking now, seeking now,
    Let Thy Spirit meet me now.

Failure in my walk and witness,
Failure in my work I see,
Fruitless toil, un-Christlike living,
Calling forth no praise to Thee.
    Seeking now, seeking now,
    Let Thy Spirit meet me now.

Now to Thee my soul confesses
All its failure, all its sin,
All the pride, the self-contentment,
All the secret faults within.
    Seeking now, seeking now,
    Let Thy Spirit meet me now.

Save me from myself, my Father,
From each subtle form of pride;
Lead me now with Christ to Calvary,
Show me I with Him have died.
    Seeking now, seeking now,
    Let Thy Spirit meet me now.

No more let it be my working,
Nor my wisdom, love, or power,
But the life of Jesus only,
Passing through me hour by hour.
    Seeking now, seeking now,
    Let Thy Spirit meet me now.

Let the fulness of Thy Spirit
Resting on Him cover me,
That the witness borne to others,
May bring glory, Lord, to Thee.
    Seeking now, seeking now,
    Let Thy Spirit meet me now.

Father, in Thy Son's Name, pleading,
I believe my prayer is heard;
And I praise Thee for the answer,
Resting simply on Thy word.
    Praising now, praising now,
    Thou hast answered, Lord, I know!
                    F. H. Allen
Lord, Thy children lowly bending,
Bow before Thy Throne;
Praise from youthful lips ascending
Wilt Thou deign to own?
Wilt Thou hear us while we bless Thee,
    And confess Thee
    God alone?

While the heavens declare Thy glory
To the listening earth,
While the angels sing the story
Of creation's birth,
Wilt Thou hear our child-notes swelling,
    Gladly telling
    Jesus' worth?

Yes, Thou wilt; for Thou dost love us,
Cam'st for us to die;
Bending from Thy Throne above us,
With a pitying eye,
Well we know that Thou art near us,
    And wilt hear us
    When we cry.
Then our humble praises bringing,
We will seek Thy face;
Hymns with grateful voices singing,
In this hallowed place.
We will dare to come before Thee,
    And adore Thee,
    Lord of grace!
                               T. A. Stowell
Lord, when we bend before Thy throne,
And our confessions pour,
Teach us to feel the sins we own,
And hate what we deplore.

Our broken spirits pitying see;
True penitence impart;
Then let a kindling glance from Thee
Beam hope upon the heart.

When our responsive tongues essay
Their grateful hymns to raise,
Grant that our souls may join the lay,
And mount to Thee in praise.

When we disclose our wants in prayer,
May we our wills resign,
And not a thought our bosoms share
That is not wholly Thine.

May faith each weak petition fill,
And waft it to the skies;
And teach our hearts 'tis goodness still
That grants it or denies.
             J. D. Carlyle
Loved with everlasting love,
Led by grace that love to know;
Spirit, breathing from above,
Thou hast taught me it is so.
Oh this full and perfect peace!
Oh this transport all divine!
In a love which cannot cease
I am His and He is mine.

Heaven above is softer blue,
Earth around is sweeter green;
Something lives in every hue
Christless eyes have never seen:
Birds with gladder songs o'erflow,
Flowers with deeper beauties shine,
Since I know, as now I know,
I am His and He is mine.

Things that once were wild alarms
Cannot now disturb my rest;
Closed in everlasting arms,
Pillowed on the loving breast.
Oh to lie for ever here,
Doubt and care and self resign,
While He whispers in my ear—
I am His and He is mine.

His for ever, only His:
Who the Lord and me shall part?
Ah, with what a rest of bliss
Christ can fill the loving heart!
Heaven and earth may fade and flee,
First-born light in gloom decline;
But, while God and I shall be,
I am His and He is mine.
            W. Robinson
Night’s shadows falling
Men to rest are calling;
Rest we, possessing
Heavenly peace and blessing;
This we implore Thee,
Falling down before Thee,
Great King of glory.

Saviour, hear us;
Son of God, be near us;
Thine angels send us;
Let Thy love attend us;
He nothing feareth
Whom Thy presence cheereth,
Light his path cleareth.

Be near, relieving
All who now are grieving;
Thy visitation
Be our consolation;
Oh hear the sighing
Of the faint and dying;
Lord, hear our crying.

Thou ever livest;
Endless life Thou givest;
Thou watch art keeping
O'er Thy faithful sleeping;
In Thy clear shining
They are now reclining,
All care resigning.

Lord of glory,
Praise we and adore Thee—
Thee for us given,
Our true Rest from heaven:
Rest, peace, and blessing
We are now possessing,
Thy Name confessing.
                   A. T. Russell
Not for our sins alone
Thy mercy, Lord, we sue;
Let fall Thy pitying glance
On our devotions too,
What we have done for Thee,
And what we think to do.

The holiest hours we spend
In prayer upon our knees,
The times when most we deem
Our songs of praise will please,
Thou Searcher of all hearts,
Forgiveness pour on these.

And all the gifts we bring,
And all the vows we make,
And all the acts of love
We plan for Thy dear sake,
Into Thy pardoning thought,
O God of mercy, take.

And most, when we, Thy flock,
Before Thy table bend,
And strange, bewildering thoughts,
With those sweet moments blend.
By Him whose death we plead,
Good Lord, Thy help extend.

Bow down Thine ear and hear!
Open Thine eyes and see!
Our very love is shame,
And we must come to Thee
To make it of Thy grace
What Thou wouldst have it be.
                 H. Twells  
Now all the woods are sleeping,
And night and stillness creeping
O'er earth with toil opprest:
But thou my heart awake thee,
To prayer awhile hetake thee,
And praise thy Maker ere thou rest.

The last faint beam is going,
The golden stars are glowing
In yonder dark-blue deep;
And such the glory given
When called of God to heaven,
On earth no more we pine and weep.

Now thought and labour ceases,
For night the tired releases,
And bids sweet rest begin:
My heart, there comes a morrow
Shall set thee free from sorrow,
And all the dreary toil of sin.

My Saviour, stay Thou by me,
And let no foe come nigh me,
Safe sheltered by Thy wing;
But would the foe alarm me,
Oh, let him never harm me,
But still Thine angels round me sing!
        P. Gerhardt, trans by C. Winkworth

Monday, November 30, 2015

Salvation is an object of infinite importance - W. Hamilton, D. D.

.....But we have lately seen that none are dearer to the heart of the Redeemer, nor enjoy a larger portion of his tenderness and care; than the humble, the brokenhearted, the feeble-minded, who are walking in darkness, and going mourning without the sun.  And it must now be added, that unless the heart is sprinkled from an evil conscience, and peace obtained through the soul's reliance on the righteousness of Christ; to manifest calmness and tranquility and confidence, so far from being a favourable sign, is one of the most fatal and alarming symptoms that any wretched mortal can discover.
     Salvation is an object of infinite importance.  It augurs well of a man to hear him complaining of his doubts and fears about his eternal welfare.  This shews that he has some concern about this subject, and encourages the hope that he is laying it seriously to heart.  It is a most alarming circumstance to find any man, in an affair of such magnitude, too calm and confident.  It naturally excites a suspicion that he has neither part nor lot in the matter; for if he were aware of its immense value, he would from time to time discover a solicitude to examine the foundation of his hope and ascertain the safety of his state.  If you see two travellers; the one, without ever looking after his luggage, making a great noise about the treasure which it contains; and the other, without saying much about the matter, frequently examining if his baggage be secure; you would be at no loss to pronounce which of them acted the most rational part, and was likely to be possessed of the greatest wealth.  And the man who says least about his hopes, but gives the greatest diligence to make his calling and election sure, is generally more alive to religion, and far nearer the kingdom of heaven, than the professor, who matters himself on the safety of his state, but is careless about the means of advancing his growth in grace, and promoting his progress in holiness and spirituality.
     Anxiety and alarm are distressing and painful; but they are at the same time salutary.  If the man is already savingly converted, they will soon pass away, and the end will be peace:  but if he is not yet reconciled to God, if they are of a sound and genuine nature, they will never leave him till he is established in the faith.....


     The cause always precedes the effect.  We must be in a state of grace before we can discover the fact:  and be possessed of faith before we can enjoy assurance.  While we are without faith, we are without God, without Christ, and without hope.  We are of the works of the law, and under a curse.  But when faith comes, we are no more under a curse.  We are the children of God, and the heirs of promise.  The word of Him who cannot lie, declares, "He that believeth shall be saved."
     Now, faith is not merely a belief of the gospel as true, but an approbation of it as infinitely excellent, and exactly adapted to our circumstances.  It is a receiving of the Lord Jesus Christ in all his offices, and a resting on him for our own salvation.  It leads us to renounce every other dependence, and cleave to him simply, and confide in him alone. 
     And while we cast on him all our care, and rely on him for righteousness and strength:  is it credible that we never can ascertain whence we look for safety, and where we have fixed our trust?  We may at times doubt our acceptance.  The number and enormity of our offences, our frequent falls and deplorable imperfections, may occasionally inspire a fear of the genuineness of our faith, and create a suspicion he will reject our application.  But amidst all our weakness and inconsistency, our views never change of his glory and grace.  Our souls still lean on him entirely, and our hearts continue to follow hard after him.  We dare not let go our hold, nor change the foundation of our hope:  but hearing the general calls and invitations of the gospel, we apply them to our own case; and never can be satisfied till we have cleared up our own interest in their provisions and our personal right to the rich and precious blessings which they proclaim.  The grand ambition of the believer is to convert the general and indefinite language of revelation into special, individual addresses;  and as he travels through the sacred pages to be able to say, "This promise is mine, this mercy and that blessing are my own:  the pardon, the peace, the righteousness, and strength of which I read belong to me; Jesus has loved me, and given himself for me:  this God is my God for ever and ever.
     And though he may not at all times possess the object of his desire, it surely is attainable. The language of the gospel is as general as that of the law.  And if he knows, from the indefinite language of the law, though he is named neither in its precepts nor penalties, that he is under its obligation and answerable to its authority:  when the Spirit of all grace unfolds the glorious import, and illustrates the universal extent of the gospel calls and promises; can the believer be at a loss, though he finds his name in none of its announcements, to argue from its general unlimited invitations, his own right to its offers, and his own warrant to embrace all its invaluable provisions?
                                                                                      W. Hamilton, D. D.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

And yet so simple and childish are many Christians....Thomas Brooks

     I have read of Honorius a Roman emperor, who was simple and childish enough, when one told him Rome was lost, he was exceedingly grieved, and cried out, Alas! alas! for he supposed it was his hen that was called Rome, which hen he exceedingly loved; but when it was told him, it was his imperial city of Rome that was besieged by Alaricus, and taken, and all the citizens rifled and made a prey to the rude enraged soldiers, then his spirits were revived, that his loss was not so great as he imagined.  Now what is the loss of a husband, a wife, a child, a friend, to the loss of God, Christ, the Spirit, or the least measure of grace, or communion with God? etc.  I say what are all such losses, but the loss of a hen, to the loss of Rome?  And yet so simple and childish are many Christians, that they are more affected and afflicted with the loss of this and that poor temporal enjoyment, than they are with the loss of their most spiritual attainments.  Ah, Christians! be but more affected with spiritual losses, and you will be more quiet and silent under temporal losses.  Let the loss of Rome trouble you more, and then the loss of your hen will not trouble you at all.....
                                                                                          Rev. Thomas Brooks