Hymn 77
The love of Christ to the church, in his language to her,
and provisions for her.
SS 7:5-13.
Now in the galleries of his grace
Appears the King, and thus he says,
"How fair my saints are in my sight!
My love how pleasant for delight!"
Kind is thy language, sovereign Lord,
There's heav'nly grace in every word;
From that dear mouth a stream divine
Flows sweeter than the choicest wine.
Such wondrous love awakes the lip
Of saints that were almost asleep,
To speak the praises of thy name,
And makes our cold affections flame.
These are the joys he lets us know
In fields and villages below;
Gives us a relish of his love,
But keeps his noblest feast above.
In Paradise, within the gates,
A higher entertainment waits
Fruits new and old laid up in store,
Where we shall feed, but thirst no more.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 54
Electing grace; or, Saints beloved in Christ.
Eph. 1:3ff.
Jesus, we bless thy Father's name;
Thy God and ours are both the same;
What heav'nly blessings from his throne
Flow down to sinners through his Son!
"Christ be my first elect," he said,
Then chose our souls in Christ our head,
Before he gave the mountains birth,
Or laid foundations for the earth.
Thus did eternal love begin
To raise us up from death and sin;
Our characters were then decreed,
"Blameless in love, a holy seed."
Predestinated to be sons,
Born by degrees, but chose at once,
A new regenerated race,
To praise the glory of his grace.
With Christ our Lord we share our part
In the affections of his heart;
Nor shall our souls be thence removed,
Till he forgets his first-beloved.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 74
The church the garden of Christ.
SS 4:12-15; 5:1.
We are a garden walled around,
Chosen and made peculiar ground;
A little spot enclosed by grace
Out of the world's wide wilderness.
Like trees of myrrh and spice we stand,
Planted by God the Father's hand;
And all his springs in Zion flow,
To make the young plantation grow.
Awake, O, heav'nly wind! and come,
Blow on this garden of perfume;
Spirit divine! descend and breathe
A gracious gale on plants beneath.
Make our best spices flow abroad,
To entertain our Savior God
And faith, and love, and joy appear,
And every grace be active here.
[Let my Beloved come and taste
His pleasant fruits at his own feast:
"I come, my spouse, I come!" he cries,
With love and pleasure in his eyes.
Our Lord into his garden comes,
Well pleased to smell our poor perfumes,
And calls us to a feast divine,
Sweeter than honey, milk, or wine.
"Eat of the tree of life, my friends,
The blessings that my Father sends;
Your taste shall all my dainties prove,
And drink abundance of my love:"
Jesus, we will frequent thy board,
And sing the bounties of our Lord;
But the rich food on which we live
Demands more praise than tongues can give.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 3
The nativity of Christ.
Luke 1:30ff; 2:10ff
Behold, the grace appears!
The promise is fulfilled;
Mary, the wondrous virgin, bears,
And Jesus is the child.
[The Lord, the highest God,
Calls him his only Son;
He bids him rule the lands abroad,
And gives him David's throne.
O'er Jacob shall he reign
With a peculiar sway;
The nations shall his grace obtain,
His kingdom ne'er decay.]
To bring the glorious news
A heav'nly form appears;
He tells the shepherds of their joys,
And banishes their fears.
"Go, humble swains," said he,
"To David's city fly;
The promised infant born to-day
Doth in a manger lie."
"With looks and hearts serene,
Go visit Christ your King;
And straight a flaming troop was seen:
The shepherds heard them sing:
"Glory to God on high!
And heav'nly peace on earth;
Goodwill to men, to angels joy,
At the Redeemer's birth!
[In worship so divine,
Let saints employ their tongues;
With the celestial hosts we join,
And loud repeat their songs:
"Glory to God on high!
And heav'nly peace on earth;
Goodwill to men, to angels joy,
At our Redeemer's birth!"]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 73
The church's beauty in the eyes of Christ.
SS 4:1-11.
Kind is the speech of Christ our Lord,
Affection sounds in every word:
Lo! thou art fair, my love," he cries,
"Not the young doves have sweeter eyes."
["Sweet are thy lips, thy pleasing voice
Salutes mine ear with secret joys;
No spice so much delights the smell,
Nor milk nor honey tastes so well.]
"Thou art all fair, my bride, to me,
I will behold no spot in thee."
What mighty wonders love performs,
And puts a comeliness on worms!
Defiled and loathsome as we are,
He makes us white, and calls us fair;
Adorns us with that heav'nly dress,
His graces and his righteousness.
"My sister and my spouse," he cries,
"Bound to my heart by various ties,
Thy powerful love my heart detains
In strong delight and pleasing chains."
He calls me from the leopard's den,
From this wild world of beasts and men,
To Zion, where his glories are;
Not Lebanon is half so fair.
Nor dens of prey, nor flowery plains,
Nor earthly joys, nor earthly pains,
Shall hold my feet or force my stay,
When Christ invites my soul away.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 4
v. 1-3,5-7
L. M.
Hearing of prayer.
O God of grace and righteousness,
Hear and attend when I complain;
Thou hast enlarged me in distress,
Bow down a gracious ear again.
Ye sons of men, in vain ye try
To turn my glory into shame;
How long will scoffers love to lie,
And dare reproach my Savior's name?
Know that the Lord divides his saints
From all the tribes of men beside;
He hears the cry of penitents,
For the dear sake of Christ that died.
When our obedient bands have done
A thousand works of righteousness,
We put our trust in God alone,
And glory in his pardoning grace.
Let the unthinking many say,
"Who will bestow some earthly good?"
But, Lord, thy light and love we pray;
Our souls desire this heav'nly food.
Then shall my cheerful powers rejoice,
At grace and favors so divine;
Nor will I change my happy choice
For all their corn, and all their wine.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 122
Going to church.
How did my heart rejoice to hear
My friends devoutly say,
"In Zion let us all appear,
And keep the solemn day!"
I love her gates, I love the road;
The church, adorned with grace,
Stands like a palace built for God,
To show his milder face.
Up to her courts with joys unknown
The holy tribes repair;
The Son of David holds his throne,
And sits in judgment there.
He hears our praises and complaints;
And while his awful voice
Divides the sinners from the saints,
We tremble and rejoice.
Peace be within this sacred place,
And joy a constant guest!
With holy gifts and heav'nly grace
Be her attendants blest!
My Soul shall pray for Zion still,
While life or breath remains;
There my best friends, my kindred dwell,
There God my Savior reigns.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 16 Part 2
The enjoyment of Christ; or, Delight in ordinances.
Lord, what a heav'n of saving grace
Shines through the beauties of thy face,
And lights our passions to a flame!
Lord, how we love thy charming name!
When I can say, "My God is mine,"
When I can feel thy glories shine,
I tread the world beneath my feet,
And all that earth calls good or great.
While such a scene of sacred joys
Our raptured eyes and souls employs,
Here we could sit, and gaze away
A long, an everlasting day.
Well, we shall quickly pass the night
To the fair coasts of perfect light;
Then shall our joyful senses rove
O'er the dear object of our love.
[There shall we drink full draughts of bliss,
And pluck new life from heav'nly trees:
Yet now and then, dear Lord, bestow
A drop of heav'n on worms below.
Send comforts down from thy right hand,
While we pass through this barren land,
And in thy temple let us see
A glimpse of love, a glimpse of thee.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 12
Free grace in revealing Christ.
Luke 10:21.
Jesus, the man of constant grief,
A mourner all his days;
His spirit once rejoiced aloud,
And tuned his joy to praise:
"Father, I thank thy wondrous love,
That hath revealed thy Son
To men unlearned, and to babes
Has made thy gospel known.
"The mysteries of redeeming grace
Are hidden from the wise,
While pride and carnal reasonings join
To swell and blind their eyes."
Thus doth the Lord of heav'n and earth
His great decrees fulfil,
And orders all his works of grace
By his own sovereign will.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 66
Christ the King at his table.
SS 1:2-5,12,13,17.
Let him embrace my soul, and prove
Mine interest in his heav'nly love;
The voice that tells me, "Thou art mine,"
Exceeds the blessings of the vine.
On thee th' anointing Spirit came,
And spreads the savor of thy name;
That oil of gladness and of grace
Draws virgin souls to meet thy face.
Jesus, allure me by thy charms,
My soul shall fly into thine arms!
Our wand'ring feet thy favors bring
To the fair chambers of the King.
[Wonder and pleasure tune our voice
To speak thy praises and our joys;
Our memory keeps this love of thine
Beyond the taste of richest wine.]
Though in ourselves deformed we are,
And black as Kedar's tents appear,
Yet, when we put thy beauties on,
Fair as the courts of Solomon.
[While at his table sits the King,
He loves to see us smile and sing;
Our graces are our best perfume,
And breathe like spikenard round the room.]
As myrrh new bleeding from the tree,
Such is a dying Christ to ine
And while he makes my soul his guest,
My bosom, Lord, shall be thy rest.
[No beams of cedar or of fir
Can with thy courts on earth compare;
And here we wait, until thy love
Raise us to nobler seats above.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 92 part 2
v.12ff
L. M.
The church is the garden of God.
Lord, 'tis a pleasant thing to stand
In gardens planted by thine hand;
Let me within thy courts be seen,
Like a young cedar, fresh and green.
There grow thy saints in faith and love,
Blest with thine influence from above;
Not Lebanon with all its trees
Yields such a comely sight as these.
The plants of grace shall ever live;
(Nature decays, but grace must thrive
Time, that doth all things else impair,
Still makes them flourish strong and fair.
Laden with fruits of age, they show
The Lord is holy, just, and true;
None that attend his gates shall find
A God unfaithful or unkind.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 16 part 1
Confession of our poverty.
Preserve me, Lord, in time of need,
For succor to thy throne I flee,
But have no merits there to plead:
My goodness cannot reach to thee.
Oft have my heart and tongue confessed
How empty and how poor I am;
My praise can never make thee blessed,
Nor add new glories to thy name.
Yet, Lord, thy saints on earth may reap
Some profit by the good we do;
These are the company I keep,
These are the choicest friends I know.
Let others choose the sons of mirth
To give a relish to their wine;
I love the men of heav'nly birth,
Whose thoughts and language are divine.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 93
Christ, or Wisdom, obeyed or resisted.
Prov. 8:34-36.
Thus saith the Wisdom of the Lord,
"Blest is the man that hears my word,
Keeps daily watch before my gates,
And at my feet for mercy waits.
"The soul that seeks me shall obtain
Immortal wealth and heav'nly gain;
Immortal life is his reward;
Life, and the favor of the Lord.
"But the vile wretch that flies from me
Doth his own soul an injury;
Fools that against my grace rebel
Seek death, and love the road to hell."
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 73 part 1
Afflicted saints happy, and prosperous sinners cursed.
Now I'm convinced the Lord is kind
To men of heart sincere;
Yet once my foolish thoughts repined,
And bordered on despair.
I grieved to see the wicked thrive,
And spoke with angry breath,
"How pleasant and profane they live!
How peaceful is their death!
"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes,
They lay their fears to sleep;
Against the heav'ns their slanders rise,
While saints in silence weep.
"In vain I lift my hands to pray,
And cleanse my heart in vain;
For I am chastened all the day,
The night renews my pain."
Yet while my tongue indulged complaints,
I felt my heart reprove,-
"Sure I shall thus offend thy saints,
And grieve the men I love."
But still I found my doubts too hard,
The conflict too severe,
Till I retired to search thy word,
And learn thy secrets there.
There, as in some prophetic glass,
I saw the sinner's feet
High mounted on a slipp'ry place,
Beside a fiery pit.
I heard the wretch profanely boast,
Till at thy frown he fell;
His honors in a dream were lost,
And he awakes in hell.
Lord, what an envious fool I was!
How like a thoughtless beast!
Thus to suspect thy promised grace,
And think the wicked blest.
Yet I was kept from full despair,
Upheld by power unknown;
That blessed hand that broke the snare
Shall guide me to thy throne.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 143
Characters of the children of God. From several scriptures.
So new-born babes desire the breast,
To feed, and grow, and thrive;
So saints with joy the gospel taste,
And by the gospel live.
[With inward gust their heart approves
All that the word relates;
They love the men their Father loves,
And hate the works he hates.]
[Not all the flatt'ring baits on earth
Can make them slaves to lust;
They can't forget their heav'nly birth,
Nor grovel in the dust.
Not all the chains that tyrants use
Shall bind their souls to vice;
Faith, like a conqueror, can produce
A thousand victories.]
[Grace, like an uncorrupting seed,
Abides and reigns within;
Immortal principles forbid
The sons of God to sin.]
[Not by the terrors of a slave
Do they perform his will,
But with the noblest powers they have
His sweet commands fulfil.]
They find access at every hour
To God within the veil;
Hence they derive a quick'ning power,
And joys that never fail.
O happy souls! O glorious state
Of overflowing grace!
To dwell so near their Father's seat,
And see his lovely face!
Lord, I address thy heav'nly throne;
Call me a child of thine;
Send down the Spirit of thy Son
To form my heart divine.
There shed thy choicest loves abroad,
And make my comforts strong:
Then shall I say, "My Father God!"
With an unwav'ring tongue.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 89
The covenant made with Christ; or, The true David.
For ever shall my song record
The truth and mercy of the Lord;
Mercy and truth for ever stand,
Like heav'n, established by his hand.
Thus to his Son he sware, and said,
"With thee my cov'nant first is made;
In thee shall dying sinners live,
Glory and grace are thine to give.
"Be thou my Prophet, thou my Priest;
Thy children shall be ever blest;
Thou art my chosen King: thy throne
Shall stand eternal like my own.
"There's none of all my sons above
So much my image or my love;
Celestial powers thy subjects are:
Then what can earth to thee compare?
"David, my servant, whom I chose
To guard my flock, to crush my foes,
And raised him to the Jewish throne,
Was but a shadow of my Son."
Now let the church rejoice and sing
Jesus, her Savior and her King;
Angels his heav'nly wonders show,
And saints declare his works below.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 129
Submission and deliverance; or, Abraham offering up his son.
Gen. 22:6, etc.
Saints, at your heav'nly Father's word
Give up your comforts to the Lord;
He shall restore what you resign,
Or grant you blessings more divine.
So Abram with obedient hand
Led forth his son at God's command;
The wood, the fire, the knife, he took,
His arm prepared the dreadful stroke.
"Abram, forbear!" the angel cried,
Thy faith is known, thy love is tried
Thy son shall live, and in thy seed
Shall the whole earth be blest indeed."
Just in the last distressing hour
Tie Lord displays deliv'ring power;
The mount of dauger is the place
Where we shall see surprising grace.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Dependence
To keep the lamp alive,
With oil we fill the bowl;
'Tis water makes the willow thrive,
And grace that feeds the soul.
The Lord's unsparing hand
Supplies the living stream;
It is not at our own command,
But still derived from Him.
Beware of Peter's word,
Nor confidently say,
"I never will deny Thee, Lord," --
But, -- "Grant I never may."
Man's wisdom is to seek
His strength in God alone;
And e'en an angel would be weak,
Who trusted in his own.
Retreat beneath his wings,
And in His gace confide!
This more exalts the King of kings
Than all your works beside.
In Jesus is our store,
Grace issues from His throne;
Whoever says, "I want no more,"
Confesses he has done.
poem by William Cowper
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Hymn 37
Christ's intercession.
Lift up your eyes to th' heav'nly seats
Where your Redeemer stays;
Kind Intercessor, there he sits,
And loves, and pleads, and prays.
'Twas well, my soul, he died for thee,
And shed his vital blood;
Appeased stern justice on the tree,
And then arose to God.
Petitions now, and praise may rise,
And saints their off'rings bring;
The Priest, with his own sacrifice,
Presents them to the King.
[Let papists trust what names they please,
Their saints and angels boast;
We've no such advocates as these,
Nor pray to th' heav'nly host.]
Jesus alone shall bear my cries
Up to his Father's throne;
He, dearest Lord! perfumes my sighs,
And sweetens every groan.
[Ten thousand praises to the King,
"Hosannah in the highest!"
Ten thousand thanks our spirits bring
To God and to his Christ.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Love's Message
"I LOVE YOU" HAS THREE SEPARATE PARTS
THAT TAKEN TOGETHER WILL BIND LOVING HEARTS.
IF ONE PART IS MISSING, THERE'S NO LOVE AT ALL.
SO OUT-OF-LOVE IS THE SAD AND EVENTUAL FALL.
THE "I" FIRST MUST KNOW AND LOVE ITSELF FOR SURE.
ONLY THEN CAN IT GIVE SELFLESS "LOVE" THAT IS PURE.
THE "YOU" CHOSEN WITH NO RESTRAINT OR COMPLAINTS
IS "I LOVE YOU, " A MESSAGE FROM GOD AND THE SAINTS.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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We Are Saints
I’ve been sanctified, set apart, for God’s service from the start,
The very moment that I believed, when Christ’s Spirit I received,
I was indeed, set apart by God, while still upon this earthly sod,
Sealed by the Spirit of Christ, for God’s purpose within this life.
All believers are God’s holy ones, truly set apart, by God’s Son,
Becoming saints while on earth, through the power of New Birth,
Indeed, not by the choice of men, but when we were Born Again,
We’re true saints of The Living God, led on earth by Christ’s rod.
Saints, according to God’s Grace, for His purpose on this place,
To have an impact, in this world, as His Truth we fervently herald,
Truth that states we are saints, regardless of what religion paints,
Saints, chosen by Christ The Lord, truth, that by many is ignored.
We are saints, as God has willed, with His purpose to be fulfilled,
Not simply saints for another time, but on earth by God’s Design,
Separated from this world’s plan, to be used by The Son of Man,
In spreading the Gospel of Christ, while in this present earthly life.
We’re not saints for just above, but here by God for sharing love,
The love of His Saving Gospel, as this for believers is God’s will,
To fill with saints the Church of God, those upon this earthly sod,
Then we can spend Eternal Life, saints together with Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©01/2012)