O joy all joys beyond,
To see the Lamb who died,
And count each sacred Wound
In Hands, and Feet, and Side!
To give to Him the praise
Of every triumph won,
And sing through endless days
The great things He hath done.
Look up, ye saints of GOD,
Nor fear to tread below
The path your SAVIOUR trod
Of daily toil and woe;
Wait but a little while
In uncomplaining love,
His own most gracious smile
Shall welcome you above.
Sir Henry W. Baker.
"There shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.”
THERE is no night in heaven;
In that blest world above
Work never can bring weariness,
For work itself is love.
There is no grief in heaven;
For life is one glad day;
And tears are of those former things
Which all have passed away.
There is no sin in heaven;
Behold that blessed throng-
All holy is their spotless robe,
All holy is their song!
There is no death in heaven;
For they who gain that shore
Have won their immortality,
And they can die no more.
LORD JESU! be our Guide;
Oh, lead us safely on,
Till night, and grief, and sin, and death,
Are past, and heaven is won!
THERE were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold:
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd's care.
'LORD, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine;
Are they not enough for Thee?'
But the Shepherd made answer: This of Mine
Has wandered away from Me;
And although the road be rough and steep,
I go to the desert to find My sheep.'
But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed;
Nor how dark was the night that the LORD passed through,
Ere He found His sheep that was lost.
Out in the desert He heard its cry
Sick and helpless, and ready to die.
‘LORD, whence are those blood-drops all the way
That mark out the mountain's track?'
'They were shed for one who had gone astray
Ere the Shepherd could bring him back.'
'LORD, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn?'
'They are pierced to-night by many a thorn.'
And all through the mountains, thunder-riven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There rose a cry to the gate of Heaven,
Rejoice! I have found My sheep!'
And the Angels echoed around the throne,
'Rejoice, for the LORD brings back His own!'
Elizabeth C. Clephane.
"He is on my right hand; therefore I shall not fall."
THY way, not mine, O LORD,
However dark it be!
Lead me by Thine own Hand;
Choose out the path for me.
Smooth let it be or rough,
It will be still the best;
Winding or straight, it leads
Right onward to Thy rest.
I dare not choose my lot;
I would not, if I might:
Choose Thou for me, my GOD,
So shall I walk aright.
The kingdom that I seek
Is Thine; so let the way
That leads to it be Thine;
Else I must surely stray.
Take Thou my cup, and it
With joy or sorrow fill,
As best to Thee may seem;
Choose Thou my good and ill.
Choose Thou for me my friends,
My sickness or my health;
Choose Thou my cares for me,
My poverty or wealth.
Not mine, not mine the choice
In things or great or small;
Be Thou my guide, my strength,
My wisdom, and my all! Amen.
"My strength is made perfect in weakness."
Too weak to think, LORD
Too weak to pray!
Too weak for song of praise!
Yet still I say,
'Now draw Thou near, LORD,
Banish all fear, LORD;
Let me in quiet hear
Thy Voice to-day!'
I would not ask, LORD,
What shall befall;
Only the loving past
Silent recall;
JESUS the lost one sought,
JESUS my soul hath bought,
This calms each troubled thought,
Therefore I leave to Thee
What shall betide :
One word enough for me-
JESUS has died.
He for His weak one pleads,
He on to glory leads,
He knows my cares, my needs,
He will provide.
Too weak to think, LORD!
Too weak to pray!
Yet from my heart of hearts
Silent I say,
'Do Thou Thy will, LORD:
Keep Thou me still, LORD;
And heart and spirit fill
With peace to-day!'
In whom we have redemption through His blood, the
forgiveness of sins.'
WEARY of earth and laden with my sin,
I look at heaven and long to enter in ;
But there no evil thing may find a home:
And yet I hear a voice that bids me 'Come.'
So vile I am, how dare I hope to stand
In the pure glory of that holy land?
Before the whiteness of that Throne appear?
Yet there are hands stretched out to draw me near.
The while I fain would tread the heavenly way,
Evil is ever with me day by day;
Yet on mine ears the gracious tidings fall,
'Repent, confess, thou shalt be loosed from all.'
It is the voice of JESUS that I hear,
His are the Hands stretched out to draw me near,
And His the Blood that can for all atone,
And set me faultless there before the Throne.
'Twas He who found me on the deathly wild,
And made me heir of heaven, the FATHER'S child,
And day by day, whereby my soul may live,
Gives me His grace of pardon, and will give.
O great Absolver, grant my soul may wear
The lowliest garb of penitence and prayer,
That in the FATHER'S courts my glorious dress
May be the garment of Thy righteousness.
Yea, Thou wilt answer for me, Righteous LORD:
Thine all the merits, mine the great reward;
Thine the sharp thorns, and mine the golden crown,
Mine the life won, and Thine the life laid down.
Naught can I bring, dear LORD, for all I owe,
Yet let my full heart what it can bestow;
Like Mary's gift let my devotion prove,
Forgiven greatly, how I greatly love. Amen.
"God sent forth His Son, made of a woman."
WHEN our heads are bowed with woe,
When our bitter tears o'erflow,
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
JESU, Son of Mary, hear!
Thou, O LORD, our flesh hast worn,
Thou our mortal griefs hast borne;
Thou hast shed the human tear:
JESU, Son of Mary, hear!
When the heart is sad within
With the thought of all its sin,
When the spirit shrinks with fear,
JESU, Son of Mary, hear!
Thou the shame, the grief hast known,
Though the sins were not Thine own;
Thou hast deigned their load to bear:
JESU, Son of Mary, hear!
When the solemn death-bell tolls
For our own departing souls,
When our final doom is near,
JESU, Son of Mary, hear!
Thou hast bowed the dying head;
Thou the Blood of life hast shed;
Thou hast filled a mortal bier :
JESU, Son of Mary, hear! Amen.
|