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Sunday
Aug132017

Sunday's Hymn: The God of Abraham Praise

The God of Abraham praise,
Who reigns enthroned above;
Ancient of everlasting days,
And God of love:
Jehovah! great I AM!
By earth and heav’n confessed;
I bow and bless the sacred name,
For ever blest.

The God of Abraham praise,
At whose supreme command
From earth I rise, and seek the joys
At his right hand:
I all on earth forsake,
Its wisdom, fame, and power;
And him my only portion make,
My Shield and Tower.

He by himself hath sworn,
I on his oath depend;
I shall, on eagle’s wings upborne,
To heav’n ascend:
I shall behold his face,
I shall his power adore,
And sing the wonders of his grace
For evermore.

The goodly land I see,
With peace and plenty blest,
A land of sacred liberty
And endless rest;
There milk and honey flow,
And oil and wine abound,
And trees of life for ever grow,
With mercy crowned.

There dwells the Lord our King,
The Lord our righteousness;
Triumphant over the world and sin,
The Prince of Peace
On Zion’s sacred height
His kingdom still maintains,
And glorious with his saints in light
For ever reigns.

The whole triumphant host
Give thanks to God on high;
Hail Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
They ever cry:
Hail Abraham’s God and mine!
I join the heavenly lays
All might and majesty are thine,
And endless praise.

—Thomas Olivers

 

 

 

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Sunday
Aug062017

Sunday's Hymn: Let Us With a Gladsome Mind

Let us with a gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind:

     For his mercies aye endure,
     Ever faithful, ever sure.


Let us blaze his name abroad,
For of gods he is the God:

He with all-commanding might
Filled the new-made world with light:

All things living he doth feed;
His full hand supplies their need:

He his chosen race did bless
In the wasteful wilderness:

He hath with a piteous eye
Looked upon our misery:

Let us therefore warble forth
His high majesty and worth:

—John Milton

 

 

 

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Sunday
Jul302017

Sunday's Hymn: Hast Thou Not Known

Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard
That firm remains on high
The everlasting throne of him
Who formed the earth and sky?

Art thou afraid his power shall fail
When comes thine evil day?
And can an all-creating arm
Grow weary or decay?

Supreme in wisdom as in power
The Rock of Ages stands,
Though him thou canst not see, nor trace
The working of his hands.

He gives the conquest to the weak,
Supports the fainting heart,
And courage in the evil hour
His heavenly aids impart.

Mere human pow’r shall fast decay,
And youthful vigor cease,
But they who wait upon the Lord
In strength shall still increase.

They with unwearied feet shall tread
The path of life divine,
With growing ardor onward move,
With growing brightness shine.

On eagles’ wings they mount, they soar,
Their wings are faith and love,
Till, past the cloudy regions here,
They rise to heaven above.

—Isaac Watts

 

 

 

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Sunday
Jul232017

Sunday's Hymn: Great Is Thy Faithfulness

Great is thy faithfulness, O God my father,
There is no shadow of turning with thee:
Thou changest not, thy compassions, they fail not;
As thou hast been thou for ever wilt be.

“Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!”
Morning by morning new mercies I see:
All I have needed thy hand hath provided—
“Great is thy faithfulness,” Lord unto me!

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.

—Thomas O. Chisholm

 

 

 

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Sunday
Jul162017

Our God, Our Help In Ages Past

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.

Under the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.

A thousand ages in thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downward by thy flood,
And lost in following years.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

—Isaac Watts

 

 

 

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