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Thursday, August 7, 2014

Cosmos and Zinnias with Though waves and storms go o'er my head and My God and Father, while I stray

  Though waves and storms go o’er my head,
  Though strength, and health, and friends be gone;
Though joys be withered all, and dead,
  Though every comfort be withdrawn;
On this my steadfast soul relies,-
Father, thy mercy never dies.

  Fixed on this ground will I remain,
  Though my heart fail, and flesh decay;
This anchor shall my soul sustain,
  When earth’s foundations melt away;
Mercy’s full power I then shall prove,
Loved with an everlasting love.
                     Johann A. Rothe, tr. by J. Wesley

My God and Father, while I stray
Far from my home in life’s rough way,
O teach me from my heart to say,
     Thy will be done.

Though dark my path and sad my lot,
Let me be still and murmur not,
Or breathe the prayer Divinely taught,
     Thy will be done.

If thou shouldst call me to resign
What most I prize, it ne’er was mine;
I only yield Thee what was Thine:
    Thy will be done.

If but my fainting heart be blest
With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest,
My God, to Thee I leave the rest;
     Thy will be done.

Renew my will from day to day;
Blend it with Thine, and take away
All that now makes it hard to say,
     Thy will be done.

Then, when on earth I breathe no more
The prayer oft mixed with tears before,
I’ll sing upon a happier shore,
     Thy will be done.
                      Charlotte Elliott

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Stormy Fields with Peace, doubting heart! my God's I am and From every stormy wind that blows

  Peace, doubting heart!  my God’s I am;
  Who formed me man forbids my fear;
The Lord hath called me by my name;
  The Lord protects, forever near:
His blood for me did once atone,
And still he loves and guards his own.

  When, passing through the watery deep,
  I ask in faith his promised aid,
The waves an awful distance keep,
  And shrink from my devoted head:
Fearless, their violence I dare;
They cannot harm for God is there!

  To him mine eye of faith I turn,
  And through the fire pursue my way;
The fire forgets its power to burn,
  The lambent flames around me play;
I own his power, accept the sign,
And shout to prove the Saviour mine.

  Still nigh me, O my Saviour, stand,
  And guard in fierce temptation’s hour;
Hide in the hollow of thy hand;
  Show forth in me thy saving power;
Still be thy arms my sure defense,
Nor earth, nor hell, shall pluck me thence.
                   Charles Wesley

From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat;
‘Tis found beneath the mercy-seat.

There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads,
A place than all besides more sweet;
It is the bloodstained mercy-seat.

There is a spot where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend,
Though sundered far; by faith they meet,
Around the common mercy-seat.

Ah, whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed,
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suffering saints no mercy-seat?

There, there on eagle wings we soar,
And time and sense seem all no more,
And heaven comes down our souls to greet,
And glory crowns the mercy-seat.

O may my hand forget her skill,
My tongue be silent, cold, and still,
This bounding heart forget to beat,
If I forget the mercy-seat.
                       Rev. Hugh Stowell

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Black-eyed Susans at Door with Jesus, Lover of my soul and Like Thee, O Lord! how wondrous fair

  Jesus, Lover of my soul,
  Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
  While the tempest still is high!
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
  Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
  O receive my soul at last.

  Other refuge have I none;
  Hangs my helpless soul on thee:
Leave, O leave me not alone,
  Still support and comfort me:
All my trust on thee is stayed,
  All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head
  With the shadow of thy wing!

  Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
  More than all in thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
  Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is thy name,
  I am all unrighteousness:
False and full of sin I am,
  Thou art full of truth and grace.

  Plenteous grace with thee is found,
  Grace to cover all my sin:
Let the healing streams abound;
  Make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art,
  Freely let me take of thee:
Spring thou up within my heart,
  Rise to all eternity.
                  Charles Wesley

Like Thee, O Lord! how wondrous fair,
Lord Jesus, all Thy members are!
A life divine to them is giv’n-
The bright inheritance of heav’n!

Just as we were we came to Thee,
As heirs of wrath and misery:
Just as Thou art, now we are Thine,-
We stand in righteousness divine.

Just as Thou art! nor doubt nor fear
Can e’er to those like Thee be near!
O boundless love! as Thee we’re seen,-
The “righteousness of God in Him!”

Just as Thou art!  O blissful ray
That turned our darkness into day!
That woke us from our death of sin,
To know our perfectness in Him!

Soon, soon, ‘mid joys on joys untold,
Thou wilt this grace and love unfold,
And worlds on worlds adoring see
The part Thy members have in thee!
                J. Denham Smith

Monday, August 4, 2014

Sunflowers and Come on, my partners in distress and And is it so-I shall be like Thy Son

  Come on, my partners in distress,
My comrades through the wilderness,
  Who still your bodies feel;
Awhile forget your griefs and fears,
And look beyond this vale of tears,
  To that celestial hill.

  Beyond the bounds of time and space,
Look forward to that heavenly place,
  The saints’ secure abode;
On faith’s strong eagle pinions rise,
And force your passage to the skies,
  And scale the mount of God.

  Who suffer with our Master here,
We shall before his face appear
  And by his side sit down;
To patient faith the prize is sure,
And all that to the end endure
  The cross, shall wear the crown.

  Thrice blessed, bliss-inspiring hope!
It lifts the fainting spirits up,
  It brings to life the dead:
Our conflicts here shall soon be past,
And you and I ascend at last,
  Triumphant with our Head.

  That great mysterious Deity
We soon with open face shall see;
  The beatific sight
Shall fill the heavenly courts with praise,
And wide diffuse the golden blaze
  Of everlasting light.
                      Charles Wesley

And is it so-I shall be like Thy Son?
Is this the grace which He for me has won?
Father of glory, (thought beyond all thought!)
In glory, to His own blest likeness brought!

Oh, Jesus, Lord, who loved me like to Thee?
Fruit of Thy work, with Thee, too, there to see
Thy glory, Lord, while endless ages roll,
Myself the prize and travail of Thy soul.

Yet it must be:  Thy love had not its rest
Were Thy redeemed not with Thee fully blest,
That love that gives not as the world, but shares
All it possesses with its loved co-heirs.

Nor I alone; Thy loved ones, all complete
In glory, round Thee there with joy shall meet,-
All like Thee, for Thy glory like Thee, Lord,
Object supreme of all, by all adored.
     J. N. Darby

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Gufus Glass and Zinnias with Thy mercy heard my infant prayer and Bride of the Lamb, awake! awake!

  Thy mercy heard my infant prayer;
Thy love, with all a mother’s care,
  Sustained my childish days:
Thy goodness watched my ripening youth,
And formed my heart to love thy truth,
  And filled my lips with praise.
 
  And now, in age and grief, thy name
Doth still my languid heart inflame,
  And bow my faltering knee;
O yet this bosom feels the fire;
This trembling hand and drooping lyre
  Have yet a strain for thee!

  Yes; broken, tuneless, still, O Lord,
This voice, transported, shall record
  Thy goodness, tried so long;
Till, sinking slow, with calm decay,
Its feeble murmurs melt away
  Into a seraph’s song.
                   Sir Robert Grant

Bride of the Lamb, awake! awake!
  Why sleep for sorrow now?
The hope of glory, Christ is thine,-
  A child of glory thou.

Thy spirit, through the lonely night,
  From earthly joy apart,
Hath sigh’d for one that’s far away,-
  The Bridegroom of thy heart.

But lo, the night is waning fast,
  The breaking morn is near;
And Jesus comes, with voice of love,
  Thy drooping heart to cheer.

He comes-for, oh! His yearning heart
  No more can bear delay-
To scenes of full unmingled joy,
  To call His bride away.

This earth, the scene of all His woe,-
  A homeless wild to thee,-
Full soon upon His heav’nly throne
  Its rightful King shall see.

Thou, too, shalt reign-He will not wear
  His crown of joy alone!
And earth His royal Bride shall see
  Beside Him on the throne.

Then weep no more! ‘tis all thine own-
  His crown, His joy divine,
And sweeter far than all beside,
  He, He Himself, is thine.
         Sir Edward Denny

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Field and Counry House with When I can read my title clear and Call'd from above, a heav'nly race by birth

  When I can read my title clear
  To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
  And wipe my weeping eyes.

  Should earth against my soul engage,
  And fiery darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage,
  And face a frowning world.

  Let cares like a wild deluge come,
  Let storms of sorrow fall,
So I but safely reach my home,
  My God, my heaven, my all.

  There I shall bathe my weary soul
  In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
  Across my peaceful breast.
                          Isaac Watts


Call’d from above, a heav’nly race by birth,
Who once were but the toiling slaves of earth,
Now pilgrims here, we seek a heav’nly home,
Our portion in the ages yet to come!

There all the saints of ev’ry clime shall meet,
There each, with all, shall all the ransomed greet:
But oh! the height of bliss, O Lord, shall be
To owe it all, to share it all, with Thee!

That precious stream of water and of blood,
Which from Thy pierced side so freely flowed,
Has put away our sins of scarlet dye,
Washed us from ev’ry stain, and brought us nigh!

Lord, not a step of all the desert road,
No pain, no sorrow, not one heavy load,
But Thou with us dost sweetly sympathize-
Share all, with tender heart and pitying eyes!

Here we are strangers!  Lord, we do not crave
A home on earth, which gave Thee but a grave!
Thy cross has severed ties which bound us here:
Thyself our Treasure, in a brighter sphere!
                          James G. Deck

Friday, August 1, 2014

Peonies with Thy gracious presence, O my God and Thy gracious presence, O my God

  Thy gracious presence, O my God,
  All that I wish contains;
With this, beneath affliction’s load,
  My heart no more complains.

 This can my every care control,
  Gild each dark scene with light;
This is the sunshine of the soul;
  Without it all is night.

  O happy scenes above the sky,
  Where thy full beams impart
Unclouded beauty to the eye,
  And rapture to the heart!

  Her portion in those realms of bliss,
  My spirit longs to know;
My wishes terminate in this,
  Nor can they rest below.

  Lord, shall the breathings of my heart
  Aspire in vain to thee?
Confirm my hope, that where thou art
  I shall forever be.

  Then shall my cheerful spirit sing
  The darksome hours away,
And rise, on faith’s expanded wing,
  To everlasting day.         
                         Anne Steele


Give me the wings of faith to rise
  Within the veil, and see
The saints above, how great their joys,
  And bright their glories be.

Once they were mourning here below,
  And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
  With sins, and doubts, and fears.

I ask them whence their victory came;
  They, with united breath,
Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
  Their triumph to His death.

They marked the footsteps that He trod,
  His zeal inspired their breast;
And, following their incarnate God,
  Possess the promised rest.

Our glorious Leader claims our praise
  For His own pattern given,
While the long cloud of witnesses
  Show the same path to heaven.
                          Rev. Isaac Watts