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Thursday, September 12, 2013

Antique Teapot and Cosmos with The hand that was nail’d to the cross of woe and Rise, my soul, behold, ‘tis Jesus

The hand that was nail’d to the cross of woe,
In love reaches down to the world below;
‘Tis beckoning now to the souls that roam,
And pointing the way to the heav’nly home.

E’en now I can see, thro’ a mist of tears,
That hand still outstretch’d o’er the gulf of years,
With healing and hope for my sin-sick soul,-
One touch of its finger will make me whole!

The hand that wrought wonders in days of old,
Holds treasure more precious than gems of gold,
The price of redemption from sin and shame,
The gift of salvation thro’ Jesus’ name.


The hand of my Saviour I see...
The hand that was wounded for me;
‘Twill lead me in love to the mansions above,
The hand that was wounded for me!

Hattie H. Pierson
Rise, my soul, behold, ‘tis Jesus!
  Jesus fills thy wond’ring eyes!
See Him now in glory seated,
  Where thy sins no more can rise.

There in righteousness transcendent,
  Lo, He doth in heav’n appear,-
Shows the blood of His atonement
  As thy title to be there!

All thy sins were laid upon Him,-
  Jesus bore them on the tree:
God, who knew them, laid them on Him,
  And, believing, thou art free.

God now brings thee to His dwelling,
  Spreads for thee His feast divine,
Bids thee welcome, ever telling
  What a portion there is thine.

Blessed, glorious word, “forever”-
  Yea, “forever” is the word!
Nothing can the ransomed sever,
  Naught divide them from the Lord.

J. Denham Smith

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