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Sunday
Sep112016

Sunday's Hymn: O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

—George Matheson

 

 

 

 

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Sunday
Aug212016

Sunday's Hymn: Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken

Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave, and follow thee;
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shalt be:
Perish ev’ry fond ambition,
All I’ve sought, or hoped, or known;
Yet how rich is my condition,
God and heav’n are still my own.

Man may trouble and distress me,
‘Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heav’n 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.

Take, my soul, thy full salvation,
Rise o’er sin and fear and care;
Joy to find in ev’ry 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 heav’n, shouldst thou repine?

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

—Henry Lyte

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunday
Aug142016

Sunday's Hymn: Come, We That Love the Lord

Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.

Let those refuse to sing
That never knew our God;
But children of the heav’nly King
May speak their joys abroad.

The men of grace have found
Glory begun below;
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow.

The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heav’nly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.

Then let our songs abound,
And ev’ry tear be dry;
We’re marching through Immanuel’s ground
To fairer worlds on high.

—Issac Watts

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunday
Aug072016

Sunday's Hymn: Like a River Glorious

Like a river glorious
Is God’s perfect peace,
Over all victorious
In its bright increase;
Perfect, yet it floweth
Fuller ev’ry day,
Perfect, yet it groweth
Deeper all the way. 

Stayed upon Jehovah,
Hearts are fully blest,
Finding, as he promised,
Perfect peace and rest.


Hidden in the hollow
Of his blessed hand,
Never foe can follow,
Never traitor stand;
Not a surge of worry,
Not a shade of care,
Not a blast of hurry
Touch the spirit there.

Ev’ry joy or trial
Falleth from above,
Traced upon our dial
By the Sun of Love.
We may trust him fully
All for us to do;
They who trust him wholly
Find him wholly true.

—Frances R. Havergal

 

 

 

 

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Sunday
Jul312016

Sunday's Hymn: My Hope Is Built

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils his lovely face,
I rest upon unchanging grace;
In ev’ry rough and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, his covenant, his blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When I shall launch in worlds unseen,
O may I then be found in him;
Dressed in his righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Edward Mote

 

 

 

 

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