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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  Though every comfort be withdrawn;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

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 

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Family Bibles, Glasses and Coins with Prayer is appointed to convey with Come, ev'ry soul by sin oppressed

  Prayer is appointed to convey
  The blessings God designs to give:
Long as they live should Christians pray;
  They learn to pray when first they live.

  If pain afflict, or wrongs oppress;
  If cares distract, or fears dismay;
If guilt deject, if sin distress;
  In every case, still watch and pray.

  ‘Tis prayer supports the soul that’s weak,
  Though thought be broken, language lame;
Pray, if thou canst or canst not speak;
  But pray with faith in Jesus’ name.

  Depend on him; thou canst not fail;
  Make all thy wants and wishes known;
Fear not; his merits must prevail:
  Ask but in faith, it shall be done.

Joseph Hart

Come, ev’ry soul by sin oppressed,
There’s mercy with the Lord,
And He will surely give you rest,
By trusting in His word.

For Jesus shed His precious blood
Rich blessings to bestow;
Plunge now into the crimson flood
That washes white as snow.

Yes, Jesus is the Truth, the Way,
That leads you into rest;
Believe in Him without delay,
And you are fully blest.

Come then, and join this holy band,
And on to glory go,
To dwell in that celestial land,
Where joys immortal flow.

Chorus
Only trust Him, only trust Him,
Only trust Him now;
He will save you, He will save you,
He will save you now.

J. H. Stockton

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Spring Flowers on Plate with O God, thou art my God alone and Sovereign Ruler of the skies

  O God, thou art my God alone;
  Early to thee my soul shall cry;
A pilgrim in a land unknown,
  A thirsty land, whose springs are dry.

  Thee, in the watches of the night
  When I remember on my bed,
Thy presence makes the darkness light
  Thy guardian wings are round my head.

  Better than life itself, thy love;
  Dearer than all beside to me;
For whom have I in heaven above,
  Or what on earth, compared with thee?

  Praise with my heart, my mind, my voice,
  For all thy mercy I will give;
My soul shall still in God rejoice,
  My tongue shall bless thee while I live.

James Montgomery

Sovereign Ruler of the skies!
Ever gracious, ever wise!
All my times are in Thy hand,
All events at Thy command.

His decree, who form’d the earth,
Fix’d my first and second birth;
Parents, native place, and time-
All appointed were by Him.

He that form’d me in the womb,
He shall guide me to the tomb;
All my times shall ever be
Order’d by His wise decree.

Times of sickness, times of health;
Times of penury and wealth;
Times of trial and of grief;
Times of triumph and relief;

Times the tempter’s power to prove;
Times to taste a Saviour’s love:
All must come, and last, and end,
As shall please my heavenly Friend.

Plagues and deaths around me fly,
Till He bids I cannot die;
Not a single shaft can hit
Till the God of love thinks fit.

Thou Gracious, Wise, and Just,
In Thy hands my life I trust:
Have I somewhat dearer still?
I resign it to Thy will.

May I always own Thy hand
Still to the surrender stand;
Know that Thou art God alone,
I and mine are all Thine own.

Thee, at all times, will I bless;
Having Thee, I all possess;
How can I bereaved be,
Since I cannot part with Thee?

John Ryland

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Not a Reflection with Though all the world my choice deride and I hear the Saviour say

  Though all the world my choice deride,
  Yet Jesus shall my portion be;
For I am pleased with none beside;
  The fairest of the fair is he.

  Sweet is the vision of thy face,
  And kindness o’er thy lips is shed;
Lovely art thou, and full of grace,
  And glory beams around thy head.

  Thy sufferings I embrace with thee,
  Thy poverty and shameful cross;
The pleasures of the world I flee,
  And deem its treasure only dross.

  Be daily dearer to my heart,
  And ever let me feel thee near;
Then willingly with all I’d part,
  Nor count it worthy of a tear.

Gerhard Tersteegen
I hear the Saviour say,
  Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
  Find in Me thine all in all.

Lord, now indeed I find
  Thy pow’r, and that alone,
Can change the leper’s spots,
  And melt the heart of stone.

For nothing good have I
  Whereby Thy grace to claim-
I’ll wash my garments white
  In the blood of Calvary’s Lamb.

When from my dying bed
  My ransomed soul shall rise,
Then “Jesus paid it all”
  Shall rend the vaulted skies.

And when before the throne
  I stand in Him complete,
I’ll lay my trophies down,
  All down at Jesus’ feet.

Chorus
Jesus, paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain:
He washed it white as snow.

Elvina M. Hall

Monday, July 21, 2014

Prone Antique Vase with Zinnias and My God, my Portion, and my Love with Look, ye saints, the sight is glorious

  My God, my Portion, and my Love,
  My everlasting All,
I’ve none but thee in heaven above,
  Or on this earthly ball.

  What empty things are all the skies,
  And this interior clod!
There’s nothing here deserves my joys,
  There’s nothing like my God.

  To thee I owe my wealth, and friends,
  And health, and safe abode:
Thanks to thy name for meaner things;
  But they are not my God.

  How vain a toy is glittering wealth,
  If once compared to thee!
Or what’s my safety, or my health,
  Or all my friends to me?

  Were I possessor of the earth,
  And called the stars my own,
Without thy graces and thyself,
  I were a wretch undone.

  Let others stretch their arms like seas
  And grasp in all the shore;
Grant me the visits of thy grace,
  And I desire no more.

Isaac WattsLook, ye saints, the sight is glorious;
See the “Man of sorrows” now;
From the fight return’d victorious,
Ev’ry knee to Him shall bow.

Crown the Saviour, angels, crown Him;
Rich the trophies Jesus brings;
In the seat of pow’r enthrone Him,
While the vault of heaven rings.

Sinners in derision crown’d Him,
Mocking thus the Saviour’s claim;
Saints and angels crowd around Him,
Own His title, praise His name.

Hark! the bursts of acclamation!
Hark! these loud triumphant chords;
Jesus takes the highest station,
Oh, what joy the sight affords.

Refrain
Crown Him, crown Him, angels crown Him,
Crown the Saviour “King of kings;"
Crown Him, crown Him, angels crown Him,
Crown the Saviour “King of kings.”

Rev. Thos. Kelly

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Anniversary Flowers with Candle and Prayer is the breath in man and I am trusting Thee, Lord Jesus

  Prayer is the breath of God in man,
  Returning whence it came;
Love is the sacred fire within,
  And prayer the rising flame.

  It gives the burdened spirit ease,
  And soothes the troubled breast;
Yields comfort to the mourners here,
  And to the weary rest.

  When God inclines the heart to pray,
  He hath an ear to hear;
To him there’s music in a groan,
  And beauty in a tear.

  The humble suppliant cannot fail
  To have his wants supplied,
Since He for sinners intercedes,
  Who once for sinners died.

Benjamin BeddomeI am trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
     Trusting only Thee;
Trusting Thee for full salvation,
     Great and free.

I am trusting Thee for pardon;
     At Thy feet I bow;
For Thy grace and tender mercy,
     Trusting now.

I am trusting Thee for cleansing
     In the crimson flood;
Trusting Thee to make me holy
     By Thy blood.

I am trusting Thee to guide me;
     Thou alone shalt lead,
Every day and hour supplying
    All my need.

I am trusting Thee for power;
     Thine can never fail;
Words which Thou Thyself shalt give me
     Must prevail.

I am trusting Thee, Lord Jesus;
     Never let me fall;
I am trusting Thee for ever,
     And for all.

Frances R. Havergal

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Roses and Other Blossoms with Unveil, O Lord, and on us shine and Jesus, I my cross have taken

  Unveil, O Lord, and on us shine
  In glory and in grace;
The gaudy world grows pale before
  The beauty of thy face.
 
  Till thou art seen, it seems to be
  A sort of fairy ground,
Where suns unsetting light the sky,
  And flowers and fruits abound.

  But when thy keener, purer beam
  Is poured upon our sight,
It loses all its power to charm,
  And what was day is night.

  Its noblest toils are then the scourge
  Which made thy blood to flow;
Its joys are but the treacherous thorns
  Which circled round thy brow.

  And thus, when we renounce for thee
  Its restless aims and fears,
The tender memories of the past,
  The hopes of coming years,-

  Poor is our sacrifice, whose eyes
  Are lighted from above;
We offer what we cannot keep
  What we have ceased to love.

John H. Newman
  Jesus, I my cross have taken,
  All to leave, and follow thee;
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
  Thou, from hence, my all shalt be:
Perish every fond ambition,
  All I’ve sought, and hoped, and known;
Yet how rich is my condition,
  God and heaven are still my own!

  Let the world despise and leave me,
  They have left my Saviour, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
  Thou art not, like man, untrue;
And, while thou shalt smile upon me,
  God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate, and friends may shun me;
  Show thy face, and all is bright.

  Go, then, earthly fame and treasure!
  Come, disaster, scorn, and pain!
In thy service, pain is pleasure;
  With thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called thee, “Abba, Father;”
  I have stayed my heart on thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
  All must work for good to me.

  Man may trouble and distress me,
  ‘Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
  Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
O ‘tis not in grief to harm me,
  While thy love is left to me;
O ‘twere not in joy to charm me,
  Were that joy unmixed with thee.

  Know, my soul, thy full salvation;
  Rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station
  Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee;
  What a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Saviour died to win thee:
  Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

  Haste thee on from grace to glory,
  Armed by faith, and winged by prayer;
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee,
  God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close they earthly mission,
  Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days,
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
  Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

Henry F. Lyte

Friday, July 18, 2014

Middle of the Summer Blooms with Shepherd Divine, our wants relieve and Sing to the Lord a joyful song

  Shepherd Divine, our wants relieve
  In this our evil day;
To all thy tempted followers give
  The power to watch and pray.

  Long as our fiery trials last,
  Long as the cross we bear,
O let our souls on thee be cast
  In never-ceasing prayer.

  Till thou thy perfect love impart,
  Till thou thyself bestow,
Be this the cry of every heart,
  “I will not let thee go;
 
  “I will not let thee go, unless
  Thou tell thy name to me,
With all thy great salvation bless,
  And make me all like thee.

  “Then let me on the mountain-top
  Behold thy open face,
Where faith in sight is swallowed up,
  And prayer in endless praise.”

Charles WesleySing to the Lord a joyful song,
  Lift up your hearts, your voices raise,
To us his gracious gifts belong,
  To him our songs of love and praise.

For life and love, for rest and food,
  For daily help and nightly care,
Sing to the Lord, for he is good,
  And praise his Name, for it is fair.

For strength to those who on him wait,
  His truth to prove, his will to do;
Praise ye our God, for he is great;
  Trust in his Name, for it is true.

For joys untold that from above
  Cheer those who love his sweet employ,
Sing to our God, for he is love;
  Exalt his Name, for it is joy.

For life below, with all its bliss,
  And for that life, more pure and high,
That inner life which over this
  Shall ever shine, and never die.

Refrain
For he is Lord of heav’n and earth,
Whom angels serve and saints adore,
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
To whom be praise forever more.

J. S. B. Monsell

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Assorted Blossoms with God of love, who hearest prayer and Hark, my soul! it is the Lord

God of love, who hearest prayer,
Kindly for thy people care,
Who on thee alone depend:
Love us, save us to the end.

Save us, in the prosperous hour,
From the flattering tempter’s power,
From his unsuspected wiles,
From the world’s pernicious smiles.

Save us from the great and wise,
Till they sink in their own eyes,
Tamely to thy yoke submit,
Lay their honor at thy feet.

Never let the world break in;
Fix a mighty gulf between;
Keep us little and unknown,
Prized and loved by God alone.

Let us still to thee look up,
Thee, thy Israel’s strength and hope;
Nothing know, or seek, beside
Jesus, and him crucified.

Charles WesleyHark, my soul! it is the Lord.
‘Tis thy Saviour, hear His word;
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee,
“Say, poor sinner, lov’st thou Me?”

“I delivered thee when bound,
And, when bleeding, healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness into light.

“Can a woman’s tender care
Cease toward the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.

“Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.

“Thou shalt see My glory soon,
When the work of grace is done;
Partner of My throne shalt be:
Say, poor sinner, lovest thou Me?”

Lord, it is my chief complaint
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love Thee and adore;
O for grace to love Thee more! Amen

William Cowper

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Fresh and Dried Flowers with Always with us, always with us and Father, whate'er of earthly bliss

  Always with us, always with us;-
  Words of cheer and words of love;
Thus the risen Saviour whispers,
  From his dwelling-place above.
With us when we toil in sadness,
  Sowing much, and reaping none;
Telling us that in the future
  Golden harvests shall be won.

  With us when the storm is sweeping
  O’er our pathway dark and drear;
Waking hope within our bosoms,
  Stilling every anxious fear.
With us in the lonely valley,
  When we cross the chilling stream;
Lighting up the steps to glory
  With salvation’s radiant beam.

Edwin H. NevinFather, whate’er of earthly bliss
  Thy sovereign will denies,
Accepted at Thy throne of grace
  Let this petition rise:

Give me a calm and thankful heart,
  From every murmur free;
The blessings of Thy grace impart,
  And make me live to Thee.

Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine
  My path of life attend:
Thy presence through my journey shine,
  And crown my journey’s end.  Amen

Anne Steele

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Zinnias, Roses and Peonies with Thy way, not mine O Lord and As when the weary traveler gains


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.
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

Horatius Bonar


(2 versions)

As when the weary traveler gains
  The height of some commanding hill-
His heart revives, if o’er the plains
  He sees his home, though distant still.

So when the Christian pilgrim views
  By faith his mansion in the skies;
The sight his fainting strength renews,
  And wings his speed to reach the prize.

The hope of heaven his spirit cheers;
  No more he grieves for sorrows past,
Nor any future conflict fears,
  So he may safe arrive at last.

O Lord, on thee our hopes we stay,
  To lead us on to thine abode:
Assur’d thy love will far o’erpay
  The hardest labors of the road.

     Newton
AND

As when the weary traveller gains
The height of some o’erlooking hill,
His heart revives, if cross the plains
He eyes his home, though distant still.

While he surveys the much loved spot,
He slights the space that lies between;
His past fatigues are now forgot,
Because his journey’s end is seen.

Thus when the Christian pilgrim views,
By faith, his mansion in the skies,
The sight his fainting strength renews,
And wings his speed to reach the prize.

The thought of home his spirit cheers,
Nor more he grieves for troubles past;
Nor any future trial fears,
So he may safe arrive at last.

‘Tis there, he says, I am to dwell
With Jesus, in the realms of day;
Then I shall bid my cares farewell,
And He will wipe my tears away.

Jesus, on thee our hope depends,
To lead us on to thine abode:
Assured our home will make amends
For all our toil while on the road.

Newton

Monday, July 14, 2014

Pottery, Flowers and Letters with O could I speak the matchless worth and There's a land beyond the skies

  O could I speak the matchless worth,
O could I sound the glories forth,
  Which in my Saviour shine,
I’d soar and touch the heavenly strings,
And vie with Gabriel while he sings
  In notes almost divine.

  I’d sing the precious blood he spilt,
My ransom from the dreadful guilt
  Of sin, and wrath divine;
I’d sing his glorious righteousness,
In which all-perfect, heavenly dress
  My soul shall ever shine.

  I’d sing the characters he bears,
And all the forms of love he wears,
  Exalted on his throne;
In loftiest songs of sweetest praise,
I would to everlasting days
  Make all his glories known.

  Well, the delightful day will come
When my dear Lord will bring me home,
  And I shall see his face;
Then with my Saviour, Brother, Friend,
A blest eternity I’ll spend,
  Triumphant in his grace.

Samuel MedleyThere’s a land beyond the skies
Where the new song sweetly swells,
Where the Christ who saved our souls
In His glory ever dwells.

We are homesick for that land
Still our hearts rejoicing sing,
We shall lay our burdens down,
In the palace of the King.

Step by step we journey on
Where the love light never dies,
Jesus waits our coming feet,
In the land beyond the skies.

Chorus
We shall sing the glad new song
Where the love light never dies;
We shall sing and praise His name
In the land beyond the skies.

Lizzie De Armond

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Iris, Lily-of-the-Valley, and Peonies with To the hills I lift mine eyes and Cast thy burden on the Lord

  To the hills I lift mine eyes,
  The everlasting hills;
Streaming thence in fresh supplies,
  My soul the Spirit feels:
Will he not his help afford?
  Help, while yet I ask, is given:
God comes down; the God and Lord
  Who made both earth and heaven.

  Faithful soul, pray always; pray,
  And still in God confide;
He thy feeble steps shall stay,
  Nor suffer thee to slide;
Lean on thy Redeemer’s breast;
  He thy quiet spirit keeps;
Rest in him, securely rest;
  Thy Watchman never sleeps.

  Neither sin, nor earth, nor hell,
  Thy Keeper can surprise;
Careless slumbers cannot steal
  On his all-seeing eyes;
He is Israel’s sure defense;
  Israel all his care shall prove;
Kept by watchful providence,
  And ever-waking love.

Charles WesleyCast thy burden on the Lord,
Only lean upon his word;
Thou shalt soon have cause to bless
His eternal faithfulness.

Ever in the raging storm
Thou shalt see his cheering form,
Hear his pledge of coming aid:
“It is I, be not afraid.”

Cast thy burden at his feet;
Linger at his mercy-seat:
He will lead thee by the hand
Gently to the better land.

He will gird thee by his power,
In thy weary, fainting hour:
Lean, then, loving, on his word;
Cast thy burden on the Lord.

Author Unknown

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Assorted Summer Blooms with Come at the morning hour and

  Come at the morning hour,
  Come, let us kneel and pray;
Prayer is the Christian pilgrim’s staff
  To walk with God all day.

  At noon, beneath the Rock
  Of ages, rest and pray;
Sweet is that shelter from the sun
  In weary heat of day.

  At evening, in thy home,
  Around its altar, pray;
And finding there the house of God,
  With heaven then close the day.

  When midnight veils our eyes,
  O it is sweet to say,
“I sleep, but my heart waketh, Lord,
  With thee to watch and pray.”

James MontgomeryMy spirit on Thy care,
  Blest Saviour, I recline;
Thou wilt not leave me to despair,
  For Thou art love divine.

In Thee I place my trust,
  On Thee I calmly rest;
I know Thee good, I know Thee just,
  And count Thy choice the best.

Whate’er events betide,
  Thy will they all perform:
Safe in Thy breast my head I hide,
  Nor fear the coming storm.

Let good or ill befall,
  It must be good for me;
Secure in having Thee in all,
  Of having all in Thee. Amen

Henry F. Lyte

Friday, July 11, 2014

Frost Vase with Colored Paper and Glory to God on high and Our Lord is now rejected

  Glory to God on high,
  Our peace is made with Heaven;
The Son of God came down to die,
  That we might be forgiven.

  His precious blood was shed,
  His body bruised, for sin:
Remember this in eating bread,
  And this in drinking wine.

  Approach his royal board,
  In his rich garments clad;
Join every tongue to praise the Lord,
  And every heart be glad.

  The Father gives the Son;
  The Son, his flesh and blood;
The Spirit seals; and faith puts on
  The righteousness of God.

Joseph HartOur Lord is now rejected,
And by the world disowned,
By the many still neglected,
And by the few enthroned,
But soon He’ll come in glory,
The hour is drawing nigh,
For the crowning day is coming by and by.

The heav’ns shall glow with splendor,
But brighter far than they
The saints shall shine in glory,
As Christ shall them array,
The beauty of the Saviour,
Shall dazzle ev’ry eye,
In the crowning day that’s coming by and by.

Our pain shall then be over,
We’ll sin and sigh no more,
Behind us all of sorrow,
And naught but joy before,
A joy in our Redeemer,
As we to Him are nigh,
In the crowning day that’s coming by and by.

Let all that look for, hasten
The coming joyful day,
By earnest consecration,
To walk the narrow way,
By gath’ring in the lost ones,
For whom our Lord did die,
For the crowning day that’s coming by and by.

Chorus
Oh, the crowning day is coming,
Is coming by and by,
When our Lord shall come in “power,”
And “glory” from on high.
Oh, the glorious sight will gladden,
Each waiting, watchful eye,
In the crowning day that’s coming by and by.

El. Nathan

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Cosmos with She loved her Saviour, and to him and He leadeth me! oh! blessed thought

  She loved her Saviour, and to him
  Her costliest present brought;
To crown his head, or grace his name,
  No gift too rare she thought.

  So let the Saviour be adored,
  And not the poor despised;
Give to the hungry from your hoard,
  But all, give all to Christ.

  Go, clothe the naked, lead the blind,
  Give to the weary rest;
For sorrow’s children comfort find,
  And help for all distressed;

  But give to Christ alone thy heart,
  Thy faith, thy love supreme;
Then for his sake thine alms impart,
  And so give all to him.

William CutterHe leadeth me! oh! blessed thought,
Oh! words with heav’nly comfort fraught;
Whate’er I do, where’er I be,
Still ‘tis God’s hand that leadeth me.

Sometimes ‘mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom,
By waters still, o’er troubled sea,-
Still ‘tis God’s hand that leadeth me.

Lord, I would clasp Thy hand in mine,
Nor ever murmur nor repine-
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since ‘tis my God that leadeth me.

And when my task on earth is done,
When, by Thy grace, the victory’s won,
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,
Since God through Jordan leadeth me.

Chorus
He leadeth me!  He leadeth me!
By His own hand He leadeth me;
His faithful follower I would be,
For by His hand He leadeth me.

Jos. H. Gilmore

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Mums and Antique Vase with Why should our tears in sorrow flow and It passeth knowledge, that dear love of Thine


In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.               John 14:2-3

     When Jesus spoke of coming again “for you,” He wasn’t casually speaking.  He was deeply, passionately, earnestly, and with an everlasting love speaking of your future with Him.
     And though He was speaking from the upper room where the disciples were gathered for the passover, Christ was looking past His death on the cross and was looking into eternity.
     And you were there.
     Yes, even from that furnished room in Jerusalem, Christ saw you free at last from the things of earth:  tears, sorrow, pain, sin, and the fear of death.  
     And He rejoiced in your garment of salvation, your robe of righteousness, your Heavenly glory and your having “put on immortality.” 
     And Christ, the omnipotent one, knowing that neither your eye nor ear nor heart had any knowledge of the things that had been prepared for you, knew you would be forever satisfied with His goodness.
     Yes, dear one of Christ, Jesus spoke concerning His coming again before He left the upper room for the cross.
     But you were in His heart.....in His very soul.....and you were beholding His glory.
     So, dear loved one of Christ, as you journey through this barren earth, do not distrust His love.    
     For it was because of His great love for you that He suffered all for you.
     And it will be because of His great love for you that He’ll not leave you behind....
away from glory.....away from Him.                                 by M. Robbins



  Why should our tears in sorrow flow
  When God recalls his own,
And bids them leave a world of woe,
  For an immortal crown?

  Is not e’en death a gain to those
  Whose life to God was given?
Gladly to earth their eyes they close,
  To open them in heaven.

  Their toils are past, their work is done,
  And they are fully blest;
They fought the fight, the victory won,
  And entered into rest.

  Then let our sorrows cease to flow;
  God has recalled his own;
But let our hearts, in every woe,
  Still say, “Thy will be done.”

William H. Bathurst
It passeth knowledge, that dear love of Thine!
My Jesus! Saviour! yet this soul of mine
Would of that love, in all its depth and length,
Its height, and breadth, and everlasting strength,
     Know more and more.

It passeth telling! that dear love of Thine!
My Jesus! Saviour! yet these lips of mine
Would fain proclaim to sinners far and near
A love which can remove all guilty fear,
     And love beget.

It passeth praises! that dear love of Thine!
My Jesus! Saviour! yet this heart of mine
Would sing a love so rich, so full, so free,
Which brought an undone sinner, such as me,
     Right home to God.

But ah! I cannot tell, or sing, or know,
The fullness of that love whilst here below;
Yet my poor vessel I may freely bring;
O Thou who art of love the living spring,
     My vessel fill.

I am an empty vessel! scarce one thought
Or look of love to Thee I’ve ever brought;
Yet I may come, and come again to Thee
With this-the contrite sinner’s truthful plea-
     “Thou lovest me.”

Oh, fill me, Jesus, Saviour, with Thy love!
May woes but drive me to the fount above;
Thither may I in childlike faith draw nigh,
And never to another fountain fly
     But unto Thee!

And when, my Jesus! Thy dear face I see,
When at the lofty throne I bend the knee,
Then of Thy love-in all its breadth and length,
Its height, and depth, and everlasting strength-
     My soul shall sing.
 
     Mary Shekleton

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Spring Flowers Gone Wild with Why should we start, and fear to die and “Whosoever heareth,” shout, shout the sound


  Why should we start, and fear to die?
  What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate to endless joy,
  And yet we dread to enter there.

  The pains, the groans, the dying strife,
  Fright our approaching souls away;
And we shrink back again to life,
  Fond of our prison and our clay.

  O would my Lord his servant meet,
  My soul would stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death’s iron gate,
  Nor feel the terrors as she passed.

  Jesus can make a dying bed
  Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
  And breathe my life out sweetly there.

Isaac Watts“Whosoever heareth,” shout, shout the sound!
Send the blessed tidings all the world around;
Spread the joyful news wherever man is found:
“Whosoever will, may come.”

Whosoever cometh need not delay,
Now the door is open, enter while you may;
Jesus is the true, the only living Way:
“Whosoever will, may come.”

“Whosoever will,” the promise secure,
“Whosoever will,” for ever must endure;
“Whosoever will,” ‘tis life for evermore:
“Whosoever will, may come.”

Chorus
“Whosoever will, whosoever will,”
Send the proclamation over vale and hill;
‘Tis a loving Father calls the wand’rer home:
“Whosoever will, may come.”

P. P. Bliss

Monday, July 7, 2014

Abbey with Hark! a voice divides the sky and Come, every joyful heart

  Hark!  a voice divides the sky,-
  Happy are the faithful dead!
In the Lord who sweetly die,
  They from all their toils are freed:
Them the Spirit hath declared
  Blest, unutterably blest;
Jesus is their great reward,
  Jesus is their endless rest.

  Followed by their works they go,
  Where their Head is gone before;
Reconciled by grace below,
  Grace hath opened mercy’s door;
Justified through faith alone,
  Here they knew their sins forgiven,
Here they laid their burden down,
  Hallowed and made meet for heaven.

  Who can now lament the lot
  Of a saint in Christ deceased?
Let the world, who know us not,
  Call us hopeless and unblest;
When from flesh the spirit freed
  Hastens homeward to return,
Mortals cry, “A man is dead!”
  Angels sing, “A child is born!”

  Born into the world above,
  They our happy brother greet;
Bear him to the throne of love,
  Place him at the Saviour’s feet:
Jesus smiles, and says, “Well done!
  Good and faithful servant thou!
Enter, and receive thy crown;
  Reign with me triumphant now.”

Charles Wesley
Come, every joyful heart,
  That loves the Saviour’s name!
Your noblest powers exert,
  To celebrate His fame;
Tell all above, and all below,
  The debt of love to Him we owe,

He left His starry crown,
  And laid His robes aside;
On wings of love came down,
  And wept, and bled, and died;
What He endured no tongue can tell,
  To save our souls from death and hell.

From the dark grave He rose-
  The mansion of the dead;
And thence His mighty foes
  In glorious triumph led;
Up thro’ the sky the Conqueror rode,
  And reigns on high the Saviour God.

From thence, He’ll quickly come-
  His chariot will not stay-
And bear our spirits home
  To realms of endless day;
There shall we see His lovely face,
  And ever be in His embrace.

Samuel Stennet

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Black-eyed Susans with Jesus, while our hearts are bleeding and Arise, my soul, arise

  Jesus, while our hearts are bleeding
  O’er the spoils that death has won,
We would, at this solemn meeting,
  Calmly say, “Thy will be done.”

  Though cast down, we’re not forsaken;
  Though afflicted, not alone:
Thou didst give, and thou hast taken;
  Blessed Lord, “Thy will be done.”

  Though to-day we’re filled with mourning,
  Mercy still is on the throne;
With thy smiles of love returning,
  We can sing, “Thy will be done.”

  By thy hands the boon was given;
  Thou hast taken but thine own:
Lord of earth, and God of heaven,
  Evermore, “Thy will be done.”

Thomas Hastings


Arise, my soul, arise;
Shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice
In my behalf appears;
Before the throne my Surety stands,
Before the throne my Surety stands,
My name is written on His hands.

He ever lives above,
For me to intercede;
His all redeeming love,
His precious blood to plead;
His blood atoned for all our race,
His blood atoned for all our race,
And sprinkles now the throne of grace.

Five bleeding wounds He bears,
Received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers,
They strongly plead for me;
Forgive him, oh, forgive, they cry,
Forgive him, oh, forgive, they cry,
Nor let that ransomed sinner die.

My God is reconciled;
His pard’ning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child;
I can no longer fear;
With confidence I now draw nigh,
With confidence I now draw nigh,
And Father, Abba, Father, cry.

Ch. Wesley

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Blue Hobnail Vase, Peonies, and Mirror with The precious seed of weeping and

  The precious seed of weeping
  To-day we sow once more,
The form of one now sleeping,
  Whose pilgrimage is o’er.
Ah!  death but safely lands him
  Where we too would attain;
Our Father’s voice demands him,
  And death to him is gain.

  He has what we were wanting,
  He sees what we believe;
The sins on earth so haunting
  Have there no power to grieve:
Safe in his Saviour’s keeping,
  Who sent him calm release,-
‘Tis only we are weeping,-
  He dwells in perfect peace.

  The crown of life he weareth,
  He bears the shining palm,
The “Holy, holy,” shareth,
  And joins the angels’ psalm;
But we, poor pilgrims, wander
  Still through this land of woe
Till we shall meet him yonder,
  And all his joy shall know.

Carl J. P. Spitta  Translated by Miss C. Winkworth

Come, said Jesus’ sacred voice
Come, and make My paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home,
Weary pilgrim, hither come!

Thou who, homeless, sole, forlorn,
Long hast borne the proud world’s scorn,
Long hast roamed the barren waste,
Weary pilgrim, hither haste.

Ye who, tossed on beds of pain,
Seek for ease, but seek in vain;
Ye, by fiercer anguish torn,
In remorse for guilt who mourn;-

Hither come! for here is found
Balm that flows for every wound,
Peace that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred, sure.

Ann L. Barbauld

Friday, July 4, 2014

Cosmos, Butterfly Bush Blooms and Peonies with Weep not for a brother deceased and It may be at morn, when the day is awaking

  Weep not for a brother deceased,
  Our loss is his infinite gain;
A soul out of prison released,
  And freed from its bodily chain;
With songs let us follow his flight,
  And mount with his spirit above,
Escaped to the mansions of light,
  And lodged in the Eden of love.

  Our brother the haven hath gained,
  Out-flying the tempest and wind;
His rest he hath sooner obtained,
  And left his companions behind,
Still tossed on a sea of distress,
  Hard toiling to make the blest shore,
Where all is assurance and peace,
  And sorrow and sin are no more.

  There all the ship’s company meet,
  Who sailed with the Saviour beneath;
With shouting each other they greet,
  And triumph o’er sorrow and death:
The voyage of life’s at an end;
  The mortal affliction is past;
The age that in heaven they spend,
  Forever and ever shall last.

Charles Wesley
It may be at morn, when the day is awaking,
When sunlight thro’ darkness and shadow is breaking,
That Jesus will come in the fullness of glory,
     To receive from the world “His own.”

It may be at mid-day, it may be at twilight,
It may be, perchance, that the blackness of midnight
Will burst into light in the blaze of His glory,
     When Jesus receives “His own.”

While its hosts cry Hosanna, from heaven descending,
With glorified saints and the angels attending,
With grace on His brow, like a halo of glory,
     Will Jesus receive “His own.”

Oh, joy! oh, delight! should we go without dying,
No sickness, no sadness, no dread and no crying,
Caught up thro’ the clouds with our Lord into glory,
     When Jesus receives “His own.”

Chorus
O Lord Jesus, how long, how long
Ere we shout the glad song,
Christ returneth;
Hallelujah! hallelujah!  Amen, Hallelujah! Amen.

H. L. Turner

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Hollyhocks with Man dieth and wasteth away and

  Man dieth and wasteth away,
  And where is he?-Hark!  from the skies,
I hear a voice answer and say,
  “The spirit of man never dies!
His body, which came from the earth,
  Must mingle again with the sod;
His soul, which in heaven had birth,
  Returns to the bosom of God.”

  No terror has death, or the grave,
  To those who believe in the Lord,
Who know the Redeemer can save,
  And lean on the faith of his word:
While ashes to ashes, and dust
  We give unto dust, in our gloom,
The light of salvation we trust,
  Which hangs like a lamp in the tomb.

  O Lord God Almighty!  to thee
  We turn, as our solace above;
The waters may fail from the sea,
  But never thy fountains of love:
O teach us thy will to obey,
  And sing with one heart and accord,
“He gave, and he taketh away,
  And praised be the name of the Lord.”

George P. Morris
When Jesus comes to reward His servants,
Whether it be noon or night,
Faithful to Him will He find us watching,
With our lamps all trimm’d and bright?

If at the dawn of the early morning,
He shall call us one by one,
When to the Lord we restore our talents,
Will He answer thee- Well done?

Have we been true to the trust He left us?
Do we seek to do our best?
If in our hearts there is naught condemns us,
We shall have a glorious rest.

Blessed are those whom the Lord finds watching,
In His glory they shall share;
If He shall come at the dawn or midnight,
Will He find us watching there?

Refrain
Oh, can we say we are ready, brother?
Ready for the soul’s bright home?
Say, will He find you and me still watching,
Waiting, waiting when the Lord shall come?

Fanny J. Crosby

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

My Cat with O’er the distant mountains breaking and I look to Thee in every need

  O’er the distant mountains breaking,
  Comes the reddening dawn of day;
Rise, my soul, from sleep awaking,
  Rise, and sing, and watch, and pray:
    ‘Tis thy Saviour,
  On his bright returning way.

  O thou long-expected, weary
  Waits my anxious soul for thee;
Life is dark, and earth is dreary
  Where thy light I do not see:
    O my Saviour,
  When wilt thou return to me?

  Long, too long, in sin and sadness,
  Far away from thee I pine;
When, O when, shall I the gladness
  Of thy Spirit feel in mine?
    O my Saviour,
  When shall I be wholly thine?

  Nearer is my soul’s salvation,
  Spent the night, the day at hand;
Keep me in my lowly station,
  Watching for thee, till I stand,
    O my Saviour,
  In thy bright and promised land.

  With my lamp well trimmed and burning,
  Swift to hear, and slow to roam,
Watching for thy glad returning
  To restore me to my home;
    Come, my Saviour,
  O my Saviour, quickly come!

John S. B. Monsell
I look to Thee in every need,
  And never look in vain;
I feel Thy strong and tender love,
  And all is well again:
The thought of Thee is mightier far
  Than sin, and pain, and sorrow are.

Discouraged in the work of life,
  Disheartened by its load,
Shamed by its failures or its fears,
  I sink beside the road;
But let me only think of Thee,
  And then new heart springs up in me.
 
Thy calmness bends serene above,
  My restlessness to still;
Around me flows Thy quickening life,
  To nerve my faltering will:
Thy presence fills my solitude;
  Thy providence turns all to good.

Embosomed deep in Thy dear love,
  Held in Thy law, I stand;
Thy hand in all things I behold,
  And all things in Thy hand;
Thou leadest me by unsought ways,
  And turn’st my mourning into praise. Amen

Samuel Longfellow

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Morning Glories, Chicory, and Butterfly with Look for the beautiful, look for the true and Have faith in God, what can there be


Sunshine and shadow are all around you;
Looking at evil we grope in the night,
Looking at Jesus we walk in the light,
Look for the beautiful, honor the right.

Think of the beautiful, think of the true,
Tho’ts like an avalanche sweep over you;
Keep not the multitude, sort them with care,
Testing by purity, purging by pray’r;
Think of the beautiful, think of the fair.

Talk of the beautiful, talk of the true;
Tongues full of poison are whisp’ring to you;
Answer them not with a talebearing word,
Only in blessing the voice should be heard;
Talk of the beautiful, talk of thy Lord.

Live for the beautiful, live for the true,
Lifting the fallen as Christ lifted you;
Search for the jewels imbedded in sin,
Bring them to Jesus, His blood washes clean;
Live for the beautiful, keep love within.

F. E. Belden
Have faith in God; what can there be
For Him too hard to do for thee?
He gave His Son; now all is free;
Have faith, have faith in God.

Have faith thy pardon to believe,
Let God’s own word thy fears relieve;
Have faith the Spirit to receive;
Have faith, have faith in God.

Have faith in God, and trust His might
That He will conquer as you fight,
And give the triumph to the right;
Have faith, have faith in God.

Have faith in God; press near His side;
Thy troubled soul trust Him to guide;
In life, in death, whate’er betide,
Have faith, have faith in God.

El. Nathan

Monday, June 30, 2014

A Grandmother's Bible with Jesus, Savior, pilot me and Cling to the Bible, tho’ all else be taken

Jesus, Savior, pilot me,
Over life’s tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treach’rous shoal;
Chart and compass come from Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boist’rous waves obey Thy will,
When Thou say’st to them “Be still!”
Wond’rous Sov’reign of the Sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar
‘Twixt me and my peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
“Fear not, I will pilot thee.”

Rev. Edward Hopper


Cling to the Bible, tho’ all else be taken;
Lose not its promises precious and sure;
Souls that are sleeping its echoes awaken,
Drink from the fountain, so peaceful, so pure.

Cling to the Bible, this jewel, this treasure
Brings to us honor and saves fallen man;
Pearl whose great value no mortal can measure,
Seek and secure it, O soul, while you can.

Lamp for the feet that in by-ways have wander’d,
Guide for the youth that would otherwise fall;
Hope for the sinner whose best days are squander’d,
Staff for the aged, and best book of all.

Chorus

Cling to the Bible!
Cling to the Bible!
Cling to the Bible,
Our Lamp and Guide.

M. J. Smith

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Dried Flowers and Book with When I a ransomed sinner see and Children of the heavenly King

When I a ransomed sinner see,
Redeemed from death, from sin set free,
It causes no surprise to me,-
It’s just like my Savior.

When all pollution’s washed away,
And I am kept from day to day,
My throbbing heart with joy can say,
It’s just like my Savior.

While bowing at the mercy-seat,
He comes my waiting soul to greet,
And our communion is so sweet,-
It’s just like my Savior.

And when my hour shall come to die,
His holy angels from the sky
Will bear me to my home on high,-
It’s just like my Savior.

Chorus
Oh, Jesus is a friend so true!
There’s naught too hard for Him to do;
He purchased life for me and you,-
It’s just like my Savior.

Rev. H. J. ZelleyChildren of the heavenly King,
As ye journey, sweetly sing;
Sing your Saviour’s worthy praise,
Glorious in His works and ways.

We are travelling home to God
In the way the fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.

Shout, ye little flock and blest;
Ye on Jesus’ throne shall rest;
There your seat is now prepared,
There your kingdom and reward.

Fear not, brethren; joyful stand
On the borders of your land;
Jesus Christ, your Father’s Son,
Bids you undismayed go on.

Lord, obediently we go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only Thou our Leader be,
And we still will follow Thee.

Rev. John Cennick