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Monday, November 1, 2010

Daylilies, Pot and Lo! the storms of life are breaking

Lord, it belongs not to my care
Whether I die or live;
To love and serve thee is my share,
And this my thy grace must give.

If life be long, I will be glad
That I may long obey;
If short, yet why should I be sad
To soar to endless day?

Christ leads me through no darker rooms
Than he went through before;
No one into his kingdom comes
But through his opened door.

Come, Lord, when grace has made me meet
Thy blessed face to see;
For if thy work on earth be sweet,
What will thy glory be?

My knowledge of that life is small,
The eye of faith is dim;
But ‘tis enough that Christ knows all,
And I shall be with him.

Richard Baxter

Grace! ‘tis a charming sound,
Harmonious to the ear;
Heaven with the echo shall resound,
And all the earth shall hear.

Grace first contrived the way
To save rebellious man;
And all the steps that grace display
Which drew the wondrous plan.

Grace led my roving feet
To tread the heavenly road;
And new supplies each hour I meet,
While pressing on to God.

Grace all the work shall crown,
Through everlasting days;
It lays in heaven the topmost stone,
And well deserves the praise.

Philip Doddridge

Oh, what, if we are Christ’s,
Is earthly shame or loss?
Bright shall the crown of glory be,
When we have borne the cross.

Keen was the trial once,
Bitter the cup of woe,
When martyred saints, baptized in blood,
Christ’s sufferings shared below.

Bright is their glory now,
Boundless their joy above,
Where, on the bosom of their God,
They rest in perfect love.

Lord, may that grace be ours,
Like them in faith to bear
All that of sorrow, grief, or pain
May be our portion here.

Enough, if thou at last
The word of blessing give,
And let us rest beneath thy feet,
Where saints and angels live.

Sir H. W. Baker

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
With blessing on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

William Cowper

God of my life, to thee I call;
Afflicted, at thy feet I fall:
When the great waterfloods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail

Friend of the friendless and the faint,
Where should I lodge my deep complaint?
Where but with thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?

Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner’s plea?
Does not the word still fixed remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain?

That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst thou not hear and answer prayer;
But a prayer-hearing, answering God
Supports me under every load.

Poor though I am, despised, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not;
And he is safe, and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

William Cowper

Lo! the storms of life are breaking,
Faithless fears our hearts are shaking;
For our succour undertaking,
     Lord and Saviour, help us.

Lo! the world from thee rebelling,
Round thy church, in pride is swelling;
With thy word their madness quelling,
     Lord and Saviour, help us.

On thine own command relying,
We our onward task are plying,
Unto thee for safety sighing,
     Lord and Saviour, help us.

By thy birth, thy cross, thy passion,
By thy tears of deep compassion,
By thy mighty intercession,
     Lord and Saviour, help us.

Henry Alford

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