Hymn 159
An unconverted state; or, Converting grace.
[Great King of glory and of grace,
We own, with humble shame,
How vile is our degen'rate race,
And our first father's name.]
From Adam flows our tainted blood,
The poison reigns within;
Makes us averse to all that's good,
And willing slaves to sin.
[Daily we break thy holy laws,
And then reject thy grace;
Engaged in the old serpent's cause,
Against our Maker's face.l
We live estranged afar from God,
And love the distance well;
With haste we run the dangerous road
That leads to death and hell.
And can such rebels be restored?
Such natures made divine?
Let sinners see thy glory, Lord,
And feel this power of thine.
We raise our Fathers name on high
Who his own Spirit sends
To bring rebellious strangers nigh,
And turn his foes to friends.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 45 part 1
The glory of Christ, and power of his gospel.
Now be my heart inspired to sing
The glories of my Savior King,
Jesus the Lord; how heav'nly fair
His form! how bright his beauties are!
O'er all the sons of human race
He shines with a superior grace;
Love from his lips divinely flows,
And blessings all his state compose.
Dress thee in arms, most mighty Lord,
Gird on the terror of thy sword,
In majesty and glory ride,
With truth and meekness at thy side.
Thine anger, like a pointed dart,
Shall pierce the foes of stubborn heart;
Or words of mercy, kind and sweet,
Shall melt the rebels at thy feet.
Thy throne, O God, for ever stands,
Grace is the sceptre in thy hands;
Thy laws and works are just and right,
Justice and grace are thy delight.
God, thine own God, has richly shed
His oil of gladness on thy head,
And with his sacred Spirit blest
His first-born Son above the rest.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm XXXV: Now Plead My Cause, Almighty God
Now plead my cause, Almighty God,
With all the sons of strife;
And fight against the men of blood,
Who fight against my life.
Draw out thy spear and stop their way,
Lift thine avenging rod;
But to my soul in mercv say,
"I am thy Savior God!"
They plant their snares to catch my feet,
And nets of mischief spread;
Plunge the destroyers in the pit
That their own hands have made.
Let fogs and darkness hide their way,
And slipp'ry be their ground;
Thy wrath shall make their lives a prey,
And all their rage confound.
They fly like chaff before the wind,
Before thine angry breath;
The angel of the Lord behind
Pursues them down to death.
They love the road that leads to hell;
Then let the rebels die,
Whose malice is implacable
Against the Lord on high.
But if thou hast a chosen few
Amongst that impious race,
Divide them from the bloody crew,
By thy surprising grace.
Then will I raise my tuneful voice,
To make thy wonders known;
In their salvation I'll rejoice,
And bless thee for my own.
Behold the love, the gen'rous love,
That holy David shows;
Hark, how his sounding bowels move
To his afflicted foes !
When they are sick his soul complains,
And seems to feel the smart;
The spirit of the gospel reigns,
And melts his pious heart.
How did his flowing tears condole
As for a brother dead !
And fasting mortified his soul,
While for their life he prayed.
They groaned, and cursed him on their bed,
Yet still he pleads and mourns;
And double blessings on his head
The righteous God returns,
Glorious type of heav'nly grace !
Thus Christ the Lord appears;
While sinners curse, the Savior prays,
And pities them with tears.
He, the true David, Isr'el's King,
Blessed and beloved of God,
To save us rebels, dead in sin,
Paid his own dearest blood.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 57
Original sin.
Rom. 5:12, etc.; Psa. 51:5; Job 14:4.
Backward with humble shame we look
On our original;
How is our nature dashed and broke
In our first father's fall!
To all that's good averse and blind,
But prone to all that's ill
What dreadful darkness veils our mind!
How obstinate our will!
[Conceived in sin, O wretched state!
Before we draw our breath
The first young pulse begins to beat
Iniquity and death.
How strong in our degen'rate blood
The old corruption reigns,
And, mingling with the crooked flood,
Wanders through all our veins.]
[Wild and unwholesome as the root
Will all the branches be;
How can we hope for living fruit
From such a deadly tree?
What mortal power from things unclean
Can pure productions bring?
Who can command a vital stream
From an infected spring?]
Yet, mighty God! thy wondrous love
Can make our nature clean,
While Christ and grace prevail above
The tempter, death, and sin.
The second Adam shall restore
The ruins of the first;
Hosannah to that sovereign power
That new-creates our dust!
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 111
Salvation by grace.
Titus 3:3-7.
[Lord, we confess our num'rous faults,
How great our guilt has been!
Foolish and vain were all our thoughts,
And all our lives were sin.
But, O my soul! for ever praise,
For ever love his name,
Who turns thy feet from dangerous ways
Of folly, sin, and shame.]
['Tis not by works of righteousness
Which our own hands have done;
But we are saved by sovereign grace
Abounding through his Son.]
'Tis from the mercy of our God
That all our hopes begin;
'Tis by the water and the blood
Our souls are washed from sin.
'Tis through the purchase of his death
Who hung upon the tree,
The Spirit is sent down to breathe
On such dry bones as we.
Raised from the dead we live anew;
And, justified by grace,
We shall appear in glory too,
And see our Father's face.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm128
We shall bow down to your majesty
In awe of your beauty and grace
We shall lift up holy hands in the sanctuary
As we look into thy face
There is power and majesty and glory here
Without the Blood I would tremble and fear
But glory to God who dwells on high
On you alone I can rely
And out of that place that's flowing with grace
The love of God it glows on my face
This love in my heart shall never depart
The fear of the Lord is where it all starts
My wife is like a fruitful vine
A gift from the Lord my God divine
My children have learned to love you too
To follow the Lord in all that they do
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 128
We shall bow down to your majesty
In awe of your beauty and grace
We shall lift up holy hand in your sanctuary
As we look into thy face
There is power and majesty and glory here
Without the Blood I would tremble and fear
But glory to the God who dwells on high
On you alone I can rely
And out of that place that's flowing with grace
The Love of God it glows on my face
This love in my heart shall never depart
The fear of the Lord is where it all starts
My wife is like a fruitful vine
A gift from the Lord my God divine
My children have learned to love you too
I'll follow you Lord in all that I do
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 145 part 2
v.7ff
C. M.
The goodness of God.
Sweet is the memory of thy grace,
My God, my heav'nly King;
Let age to age thy righteousness
In sounds of glory sing.
God reigns on high, but not confines
His goodness to the skies;
Through the whole earth his bounty shines,
And every want supplies.
With longing eyes thy creatures wait
On thee for daily food;
Thy lib'ral hand provides their meat,
And fills their mouths with good.
How kind are thy compassion's, Lord!
How slow thine anger moves!
But soon he sends his pard'ning word
To cheer the souls he loves.
Creatures with all their endless race
Thy power and praise proclaim;
But saints that taste thy richer grace
Delight to bless thy name.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm III: My God, How Many Are My Fears
My God, how many are my fears!
How fast my foes increase!
Conspiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.
The lying tempter would persuade
There's no relief from heaven;
And all my swelling sins appear
Too big to be forgiven.
But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shall on the tempter tread,
Shall silence all my threat'ning guilt,
And raise my drooping head.
I cried, and from his holy hill
He bowed a list'ning ear;
I called my Father, and my God,
And He subdued my fear.
He shed soft slumbers on mine eyes,
In spite of all my foes;
I woke, and wondered at the grace
That guarded my repose.
What through the hosts of death and hell
All armed against me stood,
Terrors no more shall shake my soul;
My refuge is my God.
Arise O Lord, fulfill thy grace,
While I thy glory sing;
My God has broke the serpent's teeth,
And death has lost his sting.
Salvation to the Lord belongs;
His arm alone can save:
Blessings attend thy people here,
And reach beyond the grave.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 51 part 3
The backslider restored.
O Thou that hear'st when sinners cry,
Though all my crimes before thee lie,
Behold them not with angry look,
But blot their mem'ry from thy book.
Create my nature pure within,
And form my soul averse to sin:
Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart,
Nor hide thy presence from my heart.
I cannot live without thy light
Cast out and banished from thy sight:
Thine holy joys, my God, restore,
And guard me that I fall no more.
Though I have grieved thy Spirit, Lord,
His help and comfort still afford;
And let a wretch come near thy throne,
To plead the merits of thy Son.
A broken heart, my God, my King,
Is all the sacrifice I bring;
The God of grace will ne'er despise
A broken heart for sacrifice.
My soul lies humbled in the dust,
And owns thy dreadful sentence just:
Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye,
And save the soul condemned to die.
Then will I teach the world thy ways;
Sinners shall learn thy sovereign grace;
I'll lead them to my Savior's blood,
And they shall praise a pard'ning God.
O may thy love inspire my tongue!
Salvation shall be all my song;
And all my powers shall join to bless
The Lord, my strength and righteousness.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 84 part 2
God and his church; or, Grace and glory.
Great God, attend, while Zion sings
The joy that from thy presence springs:
To spend one day with thee on earth
Exceeds a thousand days of mirth.
Might I enjoy the meanest place
Within thy house, O God of grace,
Not tents of ease, nor thrones of power,
Should tempt my feet to leave thy door.
God is our sun, he makes our day;
God is our shield, he guards our way
From all th' assaults of hell and sin,
From foes without and foes within.
All needful grace will God bestow,
And crown that grace with glory too!
He gives us all things, and withholds
No real good from upright souls.
O God, our King, whose sovereign sway
The glorious hosts of heav'n obey,
And devils at thy presence flee,
Blest is the man that trusts in thee.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 3
Doubts and fears suppressed.
My God, how many are my fears!
How fast my foes increase!
Conspiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.
The lying tempter would persuade
There's no relief in heav'n;
And all my swelling sins appear
Too big to be forgiv'n.
But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shalt on the tempter tread,
Shalt silence all my threatening guilt,
And raise my drooping head.
[I cried, and from his holy lull
He bowed a listening ear;
I called my Father, and my God,
And he subdued my fear.
He shed soft slumbers on mine eyes,
In spite of all my foes;
I woke, and wondered at the grace
That guarded my repose.]
What though the hosts of death and hell
All armed against me stood,
Terrors no more shall shake my soul;
My refuge is my God.
Arise, O Lord, fulfil thy grace,
While I thy glory sing;
My God has broke the serpent's teeth,
And death has lost his sting.
Salvation to the Lord belongs;
His arm alone can save:
Blessings attend thy people here,
And reach beyond the grave.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 163
Complaint of desertion and temptations.
Dear Lord! behold our sore distress;
Our sins attempt to reign;
Stretch out thine arm of conquering grace,
And let thy foes be slain.
[The lion with his dreadful roar
Affrights thy feeble sheep:
Reveal the glory of thy power,
And chain him to the deep.
Must we indulge a long despair?
Shall our petitions die?
Our mourning's never reach thine ear,
Nor tears affect thine eye?]
If thou despise a mortal groan,
Yet hear a Savior's blood;
An Advocate so near the throne
Pleads and prevails with God.
He brought the Spirit's powerful sword
To slay our deadly foes;
Our sins shall die beneath thy word,
And hell in vain oppose.
How boundless is our Father's grace,
In height, and depth, and length!
He makes his Son our righteousness,
His Spirit is our strength.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 69 part 3
Christ's obedience and death; or, God glorified and sinners saved.
Father, I sing thy wondrous grace,
I bless my Savior's name;
He bought salvation for the poor,
And bore the sinner's shame.
His deep distress has raised us high;
His duty and his zeal
Fulfilled the law which mortals broke,
And finished all thy will.
His dying groans, his living songs,
Shall better please my God
Than harp or trumpet's solemn sound,
Than goat's or bullock's blood.
This shall his humble followers see,
And set their hearts at rest
They by his death draw near to thee,
And live for ever blest.
Let heav'n and all that dwell on high
To God their voices raise,
While lands and seas assist the sky,
And join t' advance the praise.
Zion is thine, most holy God,
Thy Son shall bless her gates;
And glory purchased by his blood
For thy own Isr'el waits.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Sinners, Turn, Why Will Ye Die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Maker, asks you why?
God, who did your being give,
Made you with himself to live -
He the fatal cause demands,
Asks the work of his own hands,
Why, ye thankless creatures, why
Will ye cross his love, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Saviour, asks you why?
God, who did your souls retrieve,
Died himself, that ye might live;
Will you let him die in vain?
Crucify your Lord again?
Why, ye ransomed sinners, why
Will you slight his grace, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, the Spirit, asks you why?
He who all your lives hath strove,
Wooed you to embrace his love:
Will you not his grace receive?
Will you still refuse to live?
Why, ye long-sought sinners, why
Will you grieve your God, and die?
Dead, already dead within,
Spiritually dead in sin,
Dead to God while here you breathe,
Pant ye after second death?
Will you still in sin remain,
Greedy of eternal pain?
O ye dying sinners, why,
Why will you for ever die?
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn VI: Sinners, Turn, Why Will Ye Die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Maker, asks you why?
God, who did your being give,
Made you with himself to live -
He the fatal cause demands,
Asks the work of his own hands,
Why, ye thankless creatures, why
Will ye cross his love, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Saviour, asks you why?
God, who did your souls retrieve,
Died himself, that ye might live;
Will you let him die in vain?
Crucify your Lord again?
Why, ye ransomed sinners, why
Will you slight his grace, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, the Spirit, asks you why?
He who all your lives hath strove,
Wooed you to embrace his love:
Will you not his grace receive?
Will you still refuse to live?
Why, ye long-sought sinners, why
Will you grieve your God, and die?
Dead, already dead within,
Spiritually dead in sin,
Dead to God while here you breathe,
Pant ye after second death?
Will you still in sin remain,
Greedy of eternal pain?
O ye dying sinners, why,
Why will you for ever die?
poem by John Wesley
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Psalm 44
v.1-8,8,15-26
C. M.
The church's complaint in persecution.
Lord, we have heard thy works of old,
Thy works of power and grace,
When to our ears our fathers told
The wonders of their days.
How thou didst build thy churches here,
And make thy gospel known;
Amongst them did thine arm appear,
Thy light and glory shone.
In God they boasted all the day,
And in a cheerful throng
Did thousands meet to praise and pray,
And grace was all their song.
But now our souls are seized with shame,
Confusion fills our face,
To hear the enemy blaspheme,
And fools reproach thy grace.
Yet have we not forgot our God,
Nor falsely dealt with heav'n,
Nor have our steps declined the road
Of duty thou hast giv'n;
Though dragons all around us roar
With their destructive breath,
And thine own hand has bruised us sore
Hard by the gates of death.
PAUSE.
We are exposed all day to die
As martyrs for thy cause,
As sheep for slaughter bound we lie
By sharp and bloody laws.
Awake, arise, Almighty Lord,
Why sleeps thy wonted grace?
Why should we look like men abhorred
Or banished from thy face?
Wilt thou for ever cast us off,
And still neglect our cries?
For ever hide thine heav'nly love
From our afflicted eyes?
Down to the dust our soul is bowed,
And dies upon the ground;
Rise for our help, rebuke the proud,
And all their powers confound.
Redeem us from perpetual shame,
Our Savior and our God;
We plead the honors of thy name,
The merits of thy blood.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 63 part 1
v.1-5
C. M.
The morning of a Lord's day.
Early, my God, without delay,
I haste to seek thy face;
My thirsty spirit faints away
Without thy cheering grace.
So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.
I've seen thy glory and thy power
Through all thy temple shine;
My God, repeat that heav'nly hour,
That vision so divine.
Not all the blessings of a feast
Can please my soul so well,
As when thy richer grace I taste,
And in thy presence dwell.
Not life itself, with all her joys,
Can my best passions move,
Or raise so high my cheerful voice,
As thy forgiving love.
Thus till my last expiring day
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to sing.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Church Without Walls
We serve a Saviour good as gold,
The greatest story ever told!
The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords,
Lifegiver of love's pure rewards...
We live by faith, we testify,
Eternal life can never die!
We fellowship both near and far,
To pray and wish upon a star.
Lord Jesus is that star, that light,
That shines for us by day and night!
Christ leads the Way to Heaven's Throne,
Reminding us we're not alone...
For in His Name, we daily walk
And of His glory we would talk,
To save the lost who need God's grace,
To see the Father in Christ's face...
Give praise with us and magnify,
Give glory to the Lord on high!
Let's preach and prophesy of Him,
Who daily fills us to the brim!
Thus we in all good works excel,
For Jesus, our Emmanuel...
Think not that we ourselves were good,
Or daily did the things we should,
For all, like sheep, have gone astray...
Till Calvary and Good Friday,
When Jesus bled and died to save
And Easter Sunday left His grave!
Then God's good Spirit helped men search
To find God's grace within the Church...
Yet now, without walls, we on Earth,
Will tell the world about His worth,
That all might know the Saviour's Name,
His light and His eternal flame,
His Book of Life, His destiny!
The King who died for you and me...
Thus of His Kingdom there's no end,
That's why we trust in Him, our friend,
Who one day will return and reign!
A thousand years of peace! Amen...
(May 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Psalm 45
The glory of Christ.
My Savior and my King,
Thy beauties are divine;
Thy lips with blessings overflow,
And every grace is thine.
Now make thy glory known,
Gird on thy dreadful sword,
And ride in majesty to spread
The conquests of thy word.
Strike through thy stubborn foes,
Or melt their hearts t' obey,
While justice, meekness, grace, and truth,
Attend thy glorious way.
Thy laws, O God, are right;
Thy throne shall ever stand;
And thy victorious gospel proves
A sceptre in thy hand.
[Thy Father and thy God
Hath without measure shed
His Spirit, like a joyful oil,
T' anoint thy sacred head.]
[Behold, at thy right hand
The Gentile church is seen,
Like a fair bride in rich attire,
And princes guard the queen.]
Fair bride, receive his love,
Forget thy father's house;
Forsake thy gods, thy idol gods,
And pay thy Lord thy vows.
O let thy God and King
Thy sweetest thoughts employ;
Thy children shall his honors sing
In palaces of joy.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Power To Change
The power God used to save me, is the power that will change me,
The power of the Savior’s blood, and His grace He gives with love.
He is my friend and my Savior, my Sovereign God and my Creator,
And He, who saved my dark soul, can make a heart pure and whole.
The power of His awesome Grace, truly helps me as I seek His face,
To allow His Spirit to take control, as God changes this wicked soul.
The precious blood of God’s Son, has the power to change anyone,
Who comes to The Cross of Christ, to receive from God a New Life.
By Christ’s blood we were bought, so that change could be wrought,
In the body that belongs to Him, Christ who was crucified for our sin,
This body Christ called the Church; He did not leave here in the lurch,
But sent His Spirit, with His Light, to guide us safely out of the night.
The changes are the Father’s will, for this Church that Christ shall fill,
Filled with sinners from every nation, saved by The Lord’s Salvation,
Sanctified by the power of God, throughout the many lands we trod,
As a witness for those still lost, pointing them to our Savior’s Cross.
The changes shall continue in us, as in our Savior we place our trust,
To be all that we can be, through His blood, that flows from Calvary,
As His Grace gives us the power, for our needs, every day and hour,
Until that day, when by God’s Grace, we see our Savior face to face.
(Copyright ©06/2008)