Hymn 18
Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.
Rev. 14:13.
Hear what the voice from heav'n proclaims,
For all the pious dead;
Sweet is the savor of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.
They die in Jesus, and are blest;
How kind their slumbers are!
From suff'rings and from sins released,
And freed from every snare.
Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;
The labors of their mortal life
End in a large reward.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Related quotes
Hymn 102
The Beatitudes.
Mt. 5:3-12.
[Blest are the humble souls that see
Their emptiness and poverty;
Treasures of grace to them are giv'n,
And crowns of joy laid up in heav'n.]
[Blest are the men of broken heart,
Who mourn for sin with inward smart
The blood of Christ divinely flows,
A healing balm for all their woes.]
[Blest are the meek, who stand afar
From rage and passion, noise and war;
God will secure their happy state,
And plead their cause against the great.]
[Blest are the souls that thirst for grace,
Hunger and long for righteousness;
They shall be well supplied, and fed
With living streams and living bread.]
[Blest are the men whose bowels move
And melt with sympathy and love;
From Christ the Lord shall they obtain
Like sympathy and love again.]
[Blest are the pure, whose hearts arc clean
From the defiling powers of sin;
With endless pleasure they shall see
A God of spotless purity.]
[Blest are the men of peaceful life,
Who quench the coals of growing strife;
They shall be called the heirs of bliss,
The sons of God, the God of peace.]
[Blest are the suff'rers who partake
Of pain and shame for Jesus' sake;
Their souls shall triumph in the Lord
Glory and joy are their reward.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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One More Day's Work for Jesus
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One less of life for me!
But Heav’n is nearer, and Christ is clearer
Than yesterday, to me.
His love and light fill all my soul tonight.
Refrain
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!
One more day’s work for Jesus!
How sweet the work has been,
To tell the story, to show the glory,
Where Christ’s flock enters in!
How it did shine in this poor heart of mine.
Refrain
One more day’s work for Jesus!
O 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.
Refrain
O blessèd work for Jesus!
O 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!
Refrain
poem by Anna Bartlett Warner
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Another Day For The Lord
Another day is over my dear friend with another tomorrow to come,
Sometimes I wish it all would end and The Lord would simply come.
For when Truth by men goes ignored the day becomes far from fun.
But I need to labor for The Lord until my time on this earth is done.
For I remember when I was blind and the Christians I used to mock.
And The Lord sent to me someone kind to help me known The Rock.
Now friend, I need to do my part and with love lend a helping hand.
Especially to one with an open heart in hope that they understand.
What a blessing that would be to see a friend or coworker change.
And hear them as they believe, say that I wasn’t really so strange.
That will mean one more voice lifting up The Lord’s Blessed Name.
And with this one eternal choice another life will never be the same.
Friend, how can anyone believe, if God’s Truth they haven’t heard?
And this Truth that we have received is God’s Eternal Living Word.
Beautiful are the feet of those, who preach to others His Good News.
That’s one more soul that God knows for The Kingdom He can use.
Together we can reach the world with The Gospel of God’s Grace,
With the blessed news to herald, that Jesus Christ died in our place.
Friend, if only faithful we can be, from this present day to the end,
Then Jesus will say to you and me, well done my dear faithful friend.
The Name Above All Names
Every book that's in the Bible has prophecies galore.
They are there for each disciple to praise God more and more.
The angels look into these things, new wonders each proclaims.
Of Jesus Christ each angel sings... The name above all names...
The Holy Spirit grants us truth... That's what He's all about.
The Holy Scriptures count as proof, to overcome Man's doubt.
A fruitful life full of good deeds, toward this each one aims,
Yet only Jesus Christ succeeds... The name above all names...
Who else has holy blood to shed, prepared to take a stance?
Who else has risen from the dead, God's pardon in His hands?
Who else shares wisdom night and day? Who else the Devil shames?
Christ is the life, the truth, the way, the name above all names...
Blessed is the heart that loves the Lord, when God's work has begun.
In Jesus, we can stand assured in what Christ's Blood has done.
Born of a virgin, undefiled, all guilt the Saviour tames...
In whose name are we reconciled? The name above all names!
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Today... 'Rabboni
'Why do you look for Jesus amongst the dead'
These were the words the angels to Mary said
Later in the garden she heard You call her name
Then turning around 'Rabboni' was her refrain
The voice she thought she'd never hear again
Came speaking from the grave so clear and plain
There before her in glorious resurrection victory
Stood her Lord, untouchable but alive was He
You're alive! From the dead You have risen
and to You all the power and glory is given
You have risen in the power of an endless life
from the grave in glorious victory over strife
The gates of death You have burst open wide
Setting free all of the prisoners locked inside
'Oh grave you no longer have any hold on me'
Your sting is removed for Jesus holds the key
Death is vanquished and sins powers ceased
Now Satan is defeated and its captives released
Your victory over sin destroyed all of its powers
You have conquered death that final foe of ours.
Raboni, my master, my God and my Lord
Your victory and glory the heavens applaud.
Victor over Satan, Death and the Grave
and risen with power and mighty to save.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
He's mine boasted the grave in victory
‘He's mine' boasted the grave in victory
'He is dead so now he belongs to me'
Mary and Martha gazed on in despair
Wishing that Jesus had been with them there
Then Martha met Jesus coming to Bethany
to share in their deep grief and agony
Then she told Mary who came to see
and fell at His feet weeping helplessly
'Lord if only you had been on the scene
Then Lazarus' death would never have been'
Four days he had lain in Death's sepulchre
far beyond the reach of any earthly care
'Believe in the Resurrection' He said
For He had the power to raise the dead
'Yes I believe that You're the Son of God'
'Whatever You ask will be granted Lord'
'Where have you laid him? ' sadly Jesus sighed
'Come and see, Lord, ' both the women replied.
Seeing their helplessness at the graveside
Deep tears of sorrow the Son of God cried
They opened the tomb, rolled the stone away
Then they heard Jesus in a loud voice say
'Lazarus come out' and amazingly they saw
That he who had been dead was dead no more
'Remove the grave clothing and let him go'
and each semblance of death was removed so
There His power over death Jesus did show
in that town of Bethany long ago
************
I was dead and in sins sepulchre lay
And then I heard the voice of Jesus say
'Roy come forth from the dead', I came to Him
and stood at the cross wrapped in all my sin
He washed me in His blood so pure and clean
I was made the cleanest I'd ever been
Sins linen bands He removed from my soul
and I stood before Him restored and whole
Come witness the miracle taken place
Here stands a poor sinner saved by His grace
For the Holy Spirit has quickened me
And the power of Jesus has set me free
So, grave no longer gloat in victory
You've been conquered by the King of Glory
Death no longer has any hold on me
now that my Lord Jesus has set me free
Written after reading John 11: 17-44
Hymn 152
Sinai and Zion.
Heb. 12:18ff
Not to the terrors of the Lord,
The tempest, fire, and smoke;
Not to the thunder of that word
Which God on Sinai spoke;
But we are come to Zion's hill,
The city of our God,
Where milder words declare his will,
And spread his love abroad.
Behold th' innumerable host
Of angels clothed in light!
Behold the spirits of the just,
Whose faith is turned to sight!
Behold the blest assembly there
Whose names are writ in heav'n!
And God, the Judge of all, declares
Their vilest sins forgiv'n.
The saints on earth and all the dead
But one communion make;
All join in Christ their living Head,
And of his grace partake.
In such society as this
My weary soul would rest;
The man that dwells where Jesus is
Must be for ever blest.
poem by Isaac Watts
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O Lemme Go, My Time Has Come!
O lemme go, my time has come!
I smell death somewhere lurking near;
With weakened frame, I must welcome,
My end of earthly stay, sans fear!
O lemme go, my time has come!
My pain and suff'rings may now cease;
My job on earth is done/ half-done;
So, let me breathe my last in peace!
O lemme go, my time has come!
I tried to do the best I could;
I hear my Saviour's clarion call;
So, let me leave this world for good!
O lemme go, my time has come!
The Lord awaits with open arms;
The narrow road, I always trod;
So, let my body go to worms!
O lemme go, my time has come!
The love of flesh and world can't stop;
I see my earthly journey's end;
So, to my Master's wish, I bend!
O lemme go, my time has come!
Don't grieve or cry for me at all;
God's time for me has ended here;
So, let me dress up in my pall!
O lemme go, my time has come!
My kith and kin, do pray for me;
My soul will soon be freed at last;
So, long I for eternity!
O lemme go, my time has come!
The angels wait to take my soul;
No one can be perfect all life;
So, let me get my rod/reward!
O lemme go, my time has come!
Most of my time, I lived for God,
The Lord well knows all sins of mine;
So, let me not argue, opine!
O lemme go, my time has come!
My Heaven's road has come to end;
I'm gonna be with God above;
So, lemme go, my time is up!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 21-08-12
poem by John Celes
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Taken For Granted
While coming from a darker life, I treasure, much more, Jesus Christ,
He, who took me from that night, bringing me to His Awesome Light.
While in that dark, He touched my eyes, to see the life I now despise,
God’s Truth to me He did show, about that darkness I came to know.
But, some men born into His Light, may not share this precious sight,
Taking for granted this present life, not looking much to Jesus Christ.
Although they may know The Truth, their own life displays little proof,
Of the deep abiding love for Him, The Lord, who died for all their sin.
Some seem to have no appreciation, for The Lord and His Salvation,
Who had left Glory to set men free, and give new life to you and me.
But the new life for some is ignored, as they do not follow their Lord,
For change in their life has no part, while they follow their sinful heart.
Taking for granted all that was done, by Christ Jesus God’s own Son,
Coming to earth to die in our stead, this, for a people spiritually dead.
Men who ignore The Spirit living inside, sent by Jesus for us to abide,
Choosing to live their foolish way; ignoring all that the Spirit does say.
Taken for granted by some of us, is Christ the Lord, in whom we trust,
When to The Lord we do not give, this present life that we have to live,
Who saved us from a darkened world, so our life The Spirit can herald,
Using the witness of the believer’s life, as God’s Light for Jesus Christ.
It Is Finished
“It is finished” as Christ was done, were the words of God’s Own Son.
It was finished and some knew that Christ had died for me and you.
He was born the man Jesus Christ, for He was to be God’s Sacrifice.
Jesus was the name given Him as He’d save His people from their sin.
Christ was the name of God’s Son, as He was The Lord’s Anointed One.
Thinking they were done with Him, the people only added to their sin.
But Christ would not be denied, even though they pierced His side.
They had Him then sealed in a tomb, which only added to their doom.
In the ground as the scripture said, for three days amongst the dead.
But The Lord God was not done, for the grave could not hold His Son.
On the third day to much surprise, The Lord from the tomb would rise.
The stone of the tomb was rolled away, for He was not there to stay.
For the temple that He did raise, was His body to The Father’s praise.
And Jesus did just what He said, as He raised his body from the dead.
He was dead, but is now alive, and He is seated at His Father’s side.
This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that for us He became a sacrifice.
On the cross He bore the sins of all to redeem man from Adam’s fall.
Christ tasted death for you and me, so we could live through eternity.
Believe that for you Christ died and you my friend will be justified.
And confess your Lord is Jesus Christ and you will have Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©10/2004)
Sonnet: Trust in Jesus
Life has been kind to us despite our woes;
God has provided timely, when in need;
He has protected us from all our woes;
Life gave some sorrows but more joys indeed.
Despite our sins, God blessed our lives for years;
He forgives us but we don’t others’ sins!
As Friend and Guide, He has removed all fears;
Without His help, we cannot even wince.
Why not renew our faith in God, brethren?
With Him beside, no devil can tempt us;
Although He made us all from clay-earthen,
Our soul and holy spirit are things plus.
On no account, will God us ev’r forsake;
Let’s offer our suff’rings for Jesus’ sake.
poem by John Celes
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Corn Grinders
O little mouse, why dost thou cry
While merry stars laugh in the sky?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah, who will ease my bitter pain?
He went to seek a millet-grain
In the rich farmer's granary shed;
They caught him in a baited snare,
And slew my lover unaware:
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little deer, why dost thou moan,
Hid in thy forest-bower alone?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah! who will quiet my lament?
At fall of eventide he went
To drink beside the river-head;
A waiting hunter threw his dart,
And struck my lover through the heart.
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little bride, why dost thou weep
With all the happy world asleep?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah, who will stay these hungry tears,
Or still the want of famished years,
And crown with love my marriage-bed?
My soul burns with the quenchless fire
That lit my lover's funeral pyre:
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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A Friend in Jesus
I have a friend in Jesus,
On whom I can depend;
He is my Lord and savior,
Who suffered for my sake.
Lord Jesus won’t forsake me,
Nor will he abandon;
He is my soul-protector,
Whom I can always trust.
He died for all mankind’s sins,
And resurrected too;
He’ll come for a second time,
To judge the living / dead!
Jesus is the living God-
The son of the triune;
He’s King of Kings; Lord of lords!
His abode is heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-6-2006
poem by John Celes
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Ps: 116
Ime Pleasd that Heaven hears my cry,
Regards me when I pray,
Ime pleasd, & in a gratefull Joy,
Will worship every day.
God heard my voice, & I escapd,
Tho death had spread his snare,
Tho hell with horrid pleasure gapd
to be my sepulchre.
& when with troubles Ime besett
again Ile call on thee,
Ah help the wretch that cry's for aid,
My God deliver me.
How Just how gratious is the Lord,
How mercyfull is he?
He to the simple help affords,
Yes, he has succourd me.
Then rest my soul secure from fear,
Since he so kind has been,
Since he has kept my eyes from tears,
My sliding feet from sin.
Tis he who keeps me living still,
& when sore vext I cryd;
Since mankind is as weak as ill,
In him I must confide.
How shall I then the God reward
Who did my all bestow?
To pray, & thank, & praise thee Lord,
Is all that I can do.
In publick will I pay my vows,
& tell thy mercy's ore,
Tell how our lives are precious
to thee, whom we adore.
Behold me Lord, for I am thine,
My parents so have been;
Behold me Lord, for thou art mine,
By thee I'me freed from sin.
Then all shall hear my ready tongue,
Extoll thy name on high,
That all by my example won,
May praise as well as I.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Indifference
When I am dead I will not care
Forever more,
If sky be radiantly fair
Or tempest roar.
If my life-hoard in sin be spent,
My wife re-wed,--
I'll be so damned indifferent
When I am dead.
When I meet up with dusty doom
What if I rest
In common ditch or marble tomb,
If curst or blest?
Shall my seed be to wealth or fame,
Or gallows led,--
To me it will be all the same
When I am dead.
So say for me no pious prayer,
Be no tear shed;
In nothingness I cannot care,
I'll be so dead.
I shall not reck of war or peace
When I go hence:
Lord, let me win sublime release,--
INDIFFERENCE!
poem by Robert William Service
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Psalm 89 last part
v.47ff
8,8,8,8,8,8
Life, death, and the resurrection.
Think, mighty God, on feeble man;
How few his hours! how short his span!
Short from the cradle to the grave
Who can secure his vital breath
Against the bold demands of death,
With skill to fly, or power to save?
Lord, shall it be for ever said,
"The race of man was only made
For sickness, sorrow, and the dust?"
Are not thy servants day by day
Sent to their graves, and turned to clay?
Lord, where's thy kindness to the just?
Hast thou not promised to thy Son
And all his seed a heav'nly crown?
But flesh and sense indulge despair:
For ever blessed be the Lord,
That faith can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there.
For ever blessed be the Lord,
Who gives his saints a long reward
For all their toil, reproach, and pain:
Let all below and all above
Join to proclaim thy wondrous love,
And each repeat their loud Amen.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Peter Sinning And Repenting
When Peter boasted, soon he fell,
Yet was by grace restored;
His case should be regarded well
By all who fear the Lord.
A voice it has, and helping hand,
Backsliders to recall;
And cautions those who think they stand,
Lest suddenly they fall.
He said, Whatever others do,
With Jesus I'll abide;
Yet soon amidst a murd'rous crew
His suff'ring Lord denied.
He who had been so bold before,
Now trembled like a leaf;
Not only lied, but cursed and swore,
To gain the more belief.
While he blasphemed he heard the cock,
And Jesus looked in love;
At once, as if by lightning struck,
His tongue forbore to move.
Delivered thus from Satan's snare
He starts, as from a sleep;
His Saviour's look he could not bear,
But hasted forth to weep.
But sure the faithful cock had crowed
A hundred times in vain;
Had not the Lord that look bestowed,
The meaning to explain.
As I, like Peter, vows have made,
Yet acted Peter's part;
So conscience, like the cock, upbraids
My base, ungrateful heart.
Lord Jesus, hear a sinner's cry,
My broken peace renew;
And grant one pitying look, that I
May weep with Peter too.
poem by John Newton
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Freedom To Serve
Become God’s servant to be free, when you go through Calvary,
The only place on earth indeed, when as a servant you are freed;
Freed through the Blood of Christ, from the bondage of this life,
A Freedom only known to man, through God’s Redemptive Plan.
God bought us out of slavery, with precious Blood from Calvary,
Purchased from the market of sin; granting freedom deep within,
Freedom by us that wasn’t sought, which the Lord for us bought,
Offering His Son, our Lord Jesus, as payment made for all of us.
When we’re freed, we’re then sent, by our Lord, as God’s servant,
Here in service to the Son of God, on this earth that we now trod,
No longer slaves in bondage to sin, we delight in service for Him,
Now as we serve the King of kings, our new freedom in Him rings.
We’re now free to serve our Lord, as Christ’s Body, in one accord,
Now serving with the mind of Christ, for God gave us all New Life,
Eternal Life, which we don’t deserve, which is why we gladly serve,
By God’s Grace, with freedom, as God’s servants in His Kingdom.
All because God paid that price, when His Son became a sacrifice,
Christ, Who had no reason to die, served as a Lamb, for you and I,
To grant us real freedom my friend, that from The Lord has no end,
As we come to The Lord Jesus, to serve eternally in God’s Service.
(Copyright ©08/2010)
Blessed
Blessed are the dead
For they worry yet no more,
With no troubles for them to weep
For now they sit beneath the Lord.
For they are the blessed
Who cries not a tear,
and they are the happy
Who knows not any fear.
Blessed are the dead
For they hunger not any more,
Now all their souls are filled
Through the nourishment of the Lord.
No smiles for them to seek
And no home for them to search,
No more times for them to be weak
And no more times for them to hurt.
Yet now, WE are the living
Living day upon the day,
And then when tomorrow comes around,
We might be, blessed among the dead.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A Body of Believers
My friend, a true body of believers, will truly be of one accord,
When the spirit they’ve received, is truly from Christ The Lord.
The infiltration of any deceivers, is one thing unity can’t afford,
If a true body of believers, seeks to serve and glorify The Lord.
The early Church of Jesus Christ, was of one accord at the start,
As men surrendered their life, and gave to God their entire heart.
They were to become the Light, and shades of dark had no part.
And anyone initiating any strife, for the sake Jesus must depart.
A special unity they would show, as they preached to all the rest,
And all who saw would truly know, from above they were blessed.
By The Lord they were sent to go, and of Truth they would attest.
Through all trials they would grow, gaining strength at every test.
They were known for their love, for Jesus Christ and one another,
Through a unity that was truly of, The Lord Jesus in every brother.
And it was from The Lord above, whose love is truly like no other.
Drawing other men with His Love; hoping this day to add another.
They had spread God’s revelation, about The Lord Jesus Christ,
And all about The Lord’s Salvation, and the Hope of Eternal Life.
Preaching to every man and nation, in the Love of Jesus Christ,
And always with an anticipation, that they’d give Christ their life.
(Copyright ©09/2005)