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Thursday, July 31, 2014

Old Fashioned Lilacs with How vain are all things here below and What will it matter, by and by

  How vain are all things here below!
  How false, and yet how fair!
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
  And every sweet a snare.

  The brightest things below the sky
  Give but a flattering light;
We should suspect some danger nigh,
  Where we possess delight.

  Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
  The partners of our blood,-
How they divide our wavering minds,
  And leave but half for God!

  The fondness of a creature’s love,-
  How strong it strikes the sense!
Thither the warm affections move,
  Nor can we call them thence.

  My Saviour, let thy beauties be
  My soul’s eternal food;
And grace command my heart away
  From all created good.
                          Isaac Watts



What will it matter, by and by,
What will it matter, by and by,
Whether my crosses were heavy or light,
Whether my pathway was cloudy or bright,
When I shall walk with the ransomed in white,
Safe in that beautiful land?

What will it matter, by and by,
What will it matter, by and by,
Whether my trials were many or few,
Whether the world was unfaithful or true,
When my Redeemer in glory I view,
Home in that beautiful land?

What will it matter, by and by,
What will it matter, by and by,
Whether the waters were bitter or sweet,
Murmuring gently or sad at my feet,
When the departed, with rapture, I meet,
Home in that beautiful land?

What will it matter, by and by,
What will it matter, by and by,
Whether I pass with the morning away,
Whether at noontide or closing of day
When in the valley of Eden I stray,
Home in that beautiful land?
                             Fanny J. Crosby

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Fall Pears in a Basket with O who, in such a world as this and When the storms of life are raging

  O who, in such a world as this,
  Could bear his lot of pain,
Did not one radiant hope of bliss
  Unclouded yet remain?

  That hope the sovereign Lord has given
  Who reigns above the skies;
Hope that unites the soul to heaven
  By faith’s endearing ties.

  Each care, each ill of mortal birth,
  Is sent in pitying love,
To lift the lingering heart from earth,
  And speed its flight above.

  And every pang that wrings the breast,
  And every joy that dies,
Bid us to seek a purer rest,
  And trust to holier ties.
                    James Montgomery


When the storms of life are raging,
Tempests wild on sea and land,
I will seek a place of refuge
In the shadow of God’s hand.

Though He may send some affliction,
‘Twill but make me long for home;
For in love and not in anger,
All His chastenings will come.

Enemies may strive to injure,
Satan all his arts employ;
He will turn what seems to harm me
Into everlasting joy.

So, while here the cross I’m bearing,
Meeting storms and billows wild,
Jesus, for my soul is caring,
Naught can harm His Father’s child.

Chorus
He will hide me, He will hide me,
Where no harm can e’er betide me;
He will hide me, safely hide me
In the shadow of His hand.
                              Mrs. M. E. Servoss

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Dried Flowers gone Wild with My span of life will soon be done and Go bury thy sorrow

  My span of life will soon be done,
  The passing moments say:
As lengthening shadows o’er the mead
  Proclaim the close of day.

  O that my heart might dwell aloof
  From all created things,
And learn that wisdom from above,
  Whence true contentment springs!

  Courage, my soul! thy bitter cross,
  In every trial here,
Shall bear thee to thy heaven above,
  But shall not enter there.

  The sighing ones, that humbly seek
  In sorrowing paths below,
Shall in eternity rejoice,
  Where endless comforts flow.

  Soon will the toilsome strife be o’er
  Of sublunary care,
And life’s dull vanities no more
  This anxious breast ensnare.

  Courage, my soul! on God rely;
  Deliverance soon will come;
A thousand ways has Providence
  To bring believers home.
                       Frances M. Cowper

Go bury thy sorrow,
  The world hath its share;
Go bury it deeply,
  Go hide it with care,
Go think of it calmly,
  When curtain’d by night,
Go tell it to Jesus,
  And all will be right.

Go tell it to Jesus,
  He knoweth thy grief;
Go tell it to Jesus,
  He’ll send thee relief,
Go gather the sunshine
  He sheds on the way;
He’ll lighten thy burden,
  Go, weary one, pray.

Hearts growing a-weary
  With heavier woe
Now droop ‘mid the darkness-
  Go comfort them, go!
Go bury thy sorrows,
  Let others be blest;
Go give them the sunshine;
  Tell Jesus the rest.
                           Mary A. Bachelor

Monday, July 28, 2014

Oranges and Dried Flowers with Lord, I believe thy every word and Down life's dark vale we wander

  Lord, I believe thy every word,
  Thy every promise true;
And lo! I wait on thee, my Lord,
  Till I my strength renew.

  If in this feeble flesh I may
  A while show forth thy praise,
Jesus, support the tottering clay,
  And lengthen out my days.

  If such a worm as I can spread
  The common Saviour’s name,
Let him who raised thee from the dead
  Quicken my mortal frame.

  Still let me live thy blood to show,
  Which purges every stain;
And gladly linger out below
  A few more years in pain.
                        Charles Wesley

Down life’s dark vale we wander,
  Till Jesus comes;
We watch and wait and wonder,
  Till Jesus comes.

Oh, let my lamp be burning
  When Jesus comes;
For Him my soul be yearning,
  When Jesus comes.

No more heart-pangs nor sadness,
  When Jesus comes;
All peace and joy and gladness,
  When Jesus comes.

All doubts and fears will vanish,
  When Jesus comes;
All gloom His face will banish,
  When Jesus comes.

He’ll know the way was dreary,
  When Jesus comes;
He’ll know the feet grew weary,
  When Jesus comes.

He’ll know what griefs oppressed me,
  When Jesus comes;
Oh, how His arms will rest me!
  When Jesus comes.

Chorus
All joy His loved ones bringing,
When Jesus comes;
All praise thro’ heaven ringing,
When Jesus comes.
All beauty bright and vernal,
When Jesus comes;
All glory, grand, eternal,
When Jesus comes.
                         P. P. Bliss

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Sunflowers and Oranges with Servant of God, well done and One more day's work for Jesus

Servant of God, well done!
Rest from thy lov’d employ:
The battle fought, the vict’ry won,
Enter thy Master’s joy.

The voice at midnight came;
He started up to hear:
A mortal arrow pierced his frame;
He fell, but felt no fear.

At midnight came the cry,
“To meet thy God prepare!”
He woke,-and caught his Captain’s eye,
Then, strong in faith and prayer,

His spirit with a bound
Left its encumbering clay:
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground
A darkened ruin lay.

The pains of death are past;
Labor and sorrow cease;
And life’s long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.

Soldier of Christ!  well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour’s joy.
                       James Montgomery

One more day’s work for Jesus;
  One less of life for me!
    But heav’n is nearer,
    And Christ is dearer,
Than yesterday to me;
    His love and light
    Fill all my soul tonight.

One more day’s work for Jesus;
  How glorious is my King!
    ‘Tis joy, not duty,
    To speak His beauty;
My soul mounts on the wing
    At the mere tho’t
    How Christ my life has bought.

One more day’s work for Jesus;
  How sweet the work has been,
    To tell the story,
    To show the glory,
When Christ’s flock enter in!
    How it did shine
    In this poor heart of mine!

One more day’s work for Jesus-
  Oh, yes, a weary day;
    But heav’n shines clearer,
    And rest comes nearer,
At each step of the way;
    And Christ in all-
    Before His face I fall.

Oh, blessed work for Jesus!
  Oh, rest at Jesus’ feet!
    There toil seems pleasure.
    My wants are treasure.
And pain for Him is sweet,
    Lord, if I may,
    I’ll serve another day.

Chorus
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One less of life for me.
                       Miss Anna Warner

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Rose Trio with Why do we mourn departing friends and In some way or other the Lord will provide

Why do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death’s alarms?
‘Tis but the voice that Jesus sends,
To call them to His arms.

Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?
Nor should we wish our hours more slow
To keep us from our love.

The graves of all the saints He blest,
And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head.

Thence He arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.
                    Rev. Isaac Watts


In some way or other the Lord will provide:
     It may not be my way,
     It may not be thy way;
     And yet, in His own way,
     “The Lord will provide.”

At some time or other the Lord will provide:
     It may not be my time,
     It may not be thy time;
     And yet, in His own time,
     “The Lord will provide.”

Despond then no longer:  the Lord will provide;
     And this be the token-
     No word He hath spoken
     Was ever yet broken:
     “The Lord will provide.”

March on then right boldly; the sea shall divide
     The pathway made glorious,
     With shoutings victorious,
     We’ll join in the chorus,
     “The Lord will provide.”
                        Mrs. M. A. W. Cook

Friday, July 25, 2014

Vacant House in Country with Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish and To the work! to the work! we are servants of God

  Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish;
  Come to the mercy-seat, fervently kneel;
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
  Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

  Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
  Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure,
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
  “Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure.”

  Here see the bread of life; see waters flowing
  Forth from the throne of God, pure from above;
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
  Earth has no sorrow but Heaven can remove.
                                Thomas Moore



To the work! to the work! we are servants of God,
Let us follow the path that our Master has trod;
With the balm of His counsel our strength to renew,
Let us do with our might what our hands find to do.

To the work! to the work! let the hungry be fed;
To the fountain of Life let the weary be led;
In the cross and its banner our glory shall be,
While we herald the tidings, “Salvation is free!”

To the work! to the work! there is labor for all,
For the kingdom of darkness and error shall fall;
And the name of Jehovah exalted shall be
In the loud swelling chorus, “Salvation is free!”

To the work! to the work! in the strength of the Lord,
And a robe and a crown shall our labor reward;
When the home of the faithful our dwelling shall be,
And we shout with the ransom’d “Salvation is free!”

Chorus
Toiling on,
Toiling on,
Toiling on,
Toiling on,
Let us hope, and trust,
Let us watch, and pray,
And labor till the Master comes.
                F. J. Crosby