Hymn 90
Youth and judgment.
Eccl. 11:9.
Lo! the young tribes of Adam rise,
And through all nature rove
Fulfil the wishes of their eyes,
And taste the joys they love.
They give a loose to wild desires;
But let the sinners know
The strict account that God requires
Of all the works they do.
The Judge prepares his throne on high,
The frighted earth and seas
Avoid the fury of his eye,
And flee before his face.
How shall I bear that dreadful day,
And stand the fiery test?
I give all mortal joys away,
To be for ever blessed.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 89
Youth and judgment.
Eccl. 11:9.
Ye sons of Adam, vain and young,
Indulge your eyes, indulge your tongue,
Taste the delights your souls desire,
And give a loose to all your fire;
Pursue the pleasures you design,
And cheer your hearts with songs and wine;
Enjoy the day of mirth, but know
There is a day of judgment too.
God from on high beholds your thoughts,
His book records your secret faults;
The works of darkness you have done
Must all appear before the sun.
The vengeance to your follies due
Should strike your hearts with terror through:
How will you stand before his face,
Or answer for his injured grace?
Almighty God! turn off their eyes
From these alluring vanities;
And let the thunder of thy word
Awake their souls to fear the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 73
v.22,3,6,17-20
L. M.
The prosperity of sinners cursed.
Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of honor shine!
But O their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.
Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.
Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.
Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn XII: Come, Ye That Love the Lord
Come, ye that love the Lord,
And let your joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
While ye surround his throne:
Let those refuse to sing
Who never knew our God;
But servants of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.
The God that rules on high,
That all the earth surveys
That rides upon the stormy sky,
And calms the roaring seas-
This awful God is ours,
Our Father and our love;
He will send down his heavenly powers,
To carry us above.
There we shall see his face,
And never, never sin;
There, from the rivers of his grace,
Drink endless pleasures in:
Yea, and before we rise
To that immortal state,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss
Should constant joys create.
The men of grace have found
Glory begun below;
Celestial fruit on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow:
Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry;
We are marching through Immanuel's grounds
To fairer worlds on high.
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn XII: Come, Ye That Love the Lord
Come, ye that love the Lord,
And let your joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
While ye surround his throne:
Let those refuse to sing
Who never knew our God;
But servants of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.
The God that rules on high,
That all the earth surveys
That rides upon the stormy sky,
And calms the roaring seas-
This awful God is ours,
Our Father and our love;
He will send down his heavenly powers,
To carry us above.
There we shall see his face,
And never, never sin;
There, from the rivers of his grace,
Drink endless pleasures in:
Yea, and before we rise
To that immortal state,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss
Should constant joys create.
The men of grace have found
Glory begun below;
Celestial fruit on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow:
Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry;
We are marching through Immanuel's grounds
To fairer worlds on high.
poem by John Wesley
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Psalm 99 part 1
Christ's kingdom and majesty.
The God Jehovah reigns!
Let all the nations fear;
Let sinners tremble at his throne,
And saints be humble there.
Jesus the Savior reigns!
Let earth adore its Lord;
Bright cherubs his attendants stand,
Swift to fulfil his word.
In Zion is his throne,
His honors are Divine;
His church shall make his wonders known,
For there his glories shine.
How holy is his name!
How terrible his praise!
Justice, and truth, and judgment join
In all his works of grace.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 9 part 1
Wrath and mercy from the judgment-seat.
With my whole heart I'll raise my song,
Thy wonders I'll proclaim;
Thou, sovereign Judge of right and wrong,
Wilt put my foes to shame.
I'll sing thy majesty and grace;
My God prepares his throne
To judge the world in righteousness,
And make his vengeance known.
Then shall the Lord a refuge prove
For all the poor oppressed;
To save the people of his love,
And give the weary rest.
The men that know thy name will trust
In thy abundant grace;
For thou hast ne'er forsook the just,
Who humbly seek thy face.
Sing praises to the righteous Lord,
Who dwells on Zion's hill,
Who executes his threatening word,
And doth his grace fulfil.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 164
The end of the world.
Why should this earth delight us so?
Why should we fix our eyes
On these low grounds where sorrows grow,
And every pleasure dies ?
While time his sharpest teeth prepares
Our comforts to devour,
There is a land above the stars,
And joys above his power.
Nature shall be dissolved and die,
The sun must end his race,
The earth and sea for ever fly
Before my Savior's face.
When will that glorious morning rise?
When the last trumpet sound,
And call the nations to the skies,
From underneath the ground?
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 45
The last judgment.
Rev. 21:5-8.
See where the great incarnate God
Fills a majestic throne;
While from the skies his awful voice
Bears the last judgment down.
["I am the first, and I the last,
Through endless years the same;
I AM is my memorial still,
And my eternal name.
"Such favors as a God can give
My royal grace bestows:
Ye thirsty souls, come taste the streams,
Where life and pleasure flows.]
["The saint that triumphs o'er his sins,
I'll own him for a son;
The whole creation shall reward
The conquests he has won.
"But bloody hands, and hearts unclean,
And all the lying race,
The faithless and the scoffing crew,
That spurn at offered grace;
"They shall be taken from my sight,
Bound fast in iron chains,
And headlong plunged into the lake
Where fire and darkness reigns."]
O may I stand before the Lamb,
When earth and seas are fled!
And hear the Judge pronounce my name,
With blessings on my head!
May I with those for ever dwell
Who here were my delight!
While sinners, banished down to hell,
No more offend my sight.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 75
Power and government from God alone.
[Applied to the glorious Revolution by King William, or the happy accession of King George to the throne.]
To thee, most Holy and most High,
To thee we bring our thankful praise;
Thy works declare thy name is nigh,
Thy works of wonder and of grace.
Britain was doomed to be a slave,
Her frame dissolved, her fears were great;
When God a new supporter gave,
To bear the pillars of the state.
He from thy hand received his crown,
And sware to rule by wholesome laws;
His foot shall tread th' oppressor down,
His arm defend the righteous cause.
Let haughty sinners sink their pride,
Nor lift so high their scornful head;
But lay their foolish thoughts aside,
And own the king that God hath made.
Such honors never come by chance,
Nor do the winds promotion blow;
'Tis God the Judge doth one advance,
'Tis God that lays another low.
No vain pretence to royal birth
Shall fix a tyrant on the throne:
God, the great Sovereign of the earth,
Will rise and make his justice known.
[His hand holds out the dreadful cup
Of vengeance mixed with various plagues,
To make the wicked drink them up,
Wring out and taste the bitter dregs.
Now shall the Lord exalt the just;
And while he tramples on the proud,
And lays their glory in the dust,
My lips shall sing his praise aloud.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm LXXIII: Now I'm Convinced the Lord Is Kind
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 blessed.
Yet I was kept from full despair,
Upheld by power unknown;
That blessed hand that broke the snare
Shall guide me to thy throne.
God, my supporter and my hope,
My help for ever near,
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair.
Thy counsels, Lord, shall guide my feet
Through this dark wilderness;
Thine hand conduct me near thy seat,
To dwell before thy face.
Were I in heav'n without my God,
'twould be no joy to me;
And whilst this earth is my abode,
I long for none but thee.
What if the springs of life were broke,
And flesh and heart should faint?
God is my soul's eternal rock,
The strength of ev'ry saint.
Behold, the sinners that remove
Far from thy presence die;
Not all the idol gods they love
Can save them when they cry.
But to draw near to thee, my God,
Shall be my sweet employ;
My tongue shall sound thy works abroad,
And tell the world my joy.
Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of' honour shine!
But O their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.
Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.
Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.
Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.
Sure there's a righteous God,
Nor is religion vain;
Though men of vice may boast aloud,
And men of grace complain.
I saw the wicked rise,
And felt my heart repine,
While haughty fools with scornful eyes
In robes of' honor shine.
Pampered with wanton ease,
Their flesh looks full and fair;
Their wealth rolls in like flowing seas,
And grows without their care.
Free from the plagues and pains
That pious souls endure;
Through all their life oppression reigns,
And racks the humble poor.
Their impious tongues blaspheme
The everlasting God;
Their malice blasts the good man's name,
And spreads their lies abroad.
But I with flowing tears
Indulged my doubts to rise;
"Is there a God that sees or hears
The things below the skies?"
The tumults of my thought
Held me in hard suspense,
Till to thy house my feet were brought,
To learn thy justice thence.
Thy word with light and power
Did my mistake amend;
I viewed the sinners' life before,
But here I learned their end.
On what a slippery steep
The thoughtless wretches go;
And O that dreadful fiery deep
That waits their fall below!
Lord, at thy feet I bow,
My thoughts no more repine;
I call my God my portion now,
And all my powers are thine.
poem by Isaac Watts
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I Bore You Up On Eagles Wings
I bore you up on eagles wings
And took you to my heart
When troubles are all the enemy brings
Know that we shall never part
I did not deliver you from affliction
Just to watch you drown
All of life is under my jurisdiction
And my presence is all around
Open up your eyes and see
Your God who dwells on high
I am the One who set you free
And My glory fills the earth and sky
Stand fast my child and do not falter
This fire shall not consume
You must pass through the brazen altar
Before your journey can resume
You shall pass through all the waters
You shall walk through every fire
For you're my sons and daughters
I'll give you wings and you'll fly higher
High above the stormy seas
You'll find your place it is in me
You must get down upon your knees
If you are longing to be free
The Lord says you are free indeed
Whether in the storm or fire
Keep your eyes upon the Seed
And He will surely take you higher
He'll take you up on eagles wings
Into the Father's heart
Into the place where angels sing
A place that quenches fiery darts
And though the world be shaken
And tried by fire and flood
We walk in blessed union
And we are covered by His Blood
And now we see that every nation
Has turned its back and walked away
And so shall face the tribulation
That comes before the judgment day
Stand fast in the Lord and be unmoved
By all of this commotion
For the saints in this day shall be approved
And known for their devotion
And in the end we'll fly away
To where the angel sings
Rising to the throne of grace
He'll take us there on eagles wings
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 66 part 1
Governing power and goodness; or, Our graces tried by afflictions.
Sing, all ye nations, to the Lord,
Sing with a joyful noise;
With melody of sound record
His honors and your joys.
Say to the Power that shakes the sky,
"How terrible art thou!
Sinners before thy presence fly,
Or at thy feet they bow."
[Come, see the wonders of our God,
How glorious are his ways!
In Moses' hand he puts his rod,
And cleaves the frighted seas.
He made the ebbing channel dry,
While Isr'el passed the flood
There did the church begin their joy,
And triumph in their God.]
He rules by his resistless might:
Will rebel mortals dare
Provoke th' Eternal to the fight,
And tempt that dreadful war?
O bless our God, and never cease;
Ye saints, fulfil his praise;
He keeps our life, maintains our peace,
And guides our doubtful ways.
Lord, thou hast proved our suff'ring souls,
To make our graces shine;
So silver bears the burning coals,
The metal to refine.
Through wat'ry deeps, and fiery ways,
We march at thy command;
Led to possess the promised place
By thine unerring hand.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Joy Of The Lord Is Your Strength
Joy is a fruit that will not grow
In nature's barren foil;
All we can boast, till Christ we know,
Is vanity and toil.
But where the Lord has planted grace;
And made his glories known;
There fruits of heavenly joy and peace
Are found, and there alone.
A bleeding Saviour seen by faith,
A sense of pard'ning love;
A hope that triumphs over death,
Give joys like those above.
To take a glimpse within the veil,
To know that God is mine;
Are springs of joy that never fail,
Unspeakably divine!
These are the joys which satisfy,
And sanctify the mind;
Which make the spirit mount on high,
And leave the world behind.
No more, believers, mourn your lot,
But if you are the Lord's
Resign to them that know him not,
Such joys as earth affords.
poem by John Newton
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Psalm I: The Man Is Ever Blessed
The man is ever bless'd
Who shuns the sinners' ways,
Among their councils never stands,
Nor takes the scorner's place;
But makes the law of God
His study and delight,
Amidst the labours of the day,
And watches of the night.
He like a tree shall thrive,
With waters near the root;
Fresh as the leaf his name shall live;
His works are heav'nly fruit.
Not so the ungoodly race,
They no such blessings find;
Their hopes shall flee, like empty chaff
Before the driving wind.
How will they bear to stand
Before that judgement-seat,
When all the saints, at Christ's right hand,
In full assembly meet.
He knows, and he approves,
The way the righteous go;
But sinners and their works shall meet
A dreadful overthrow.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Still I Rise
Shattered, but I'm not broken
Woudned still time will heal
Heavy the load the cross I bear
Lonley, the road I trod I dare
Shaken, but here I stand
Weary, still I press on
Long are the nights, the tears I cry
Dark are the days, no sun in the skys
Yet still I rise
Never to give up
Never to give in
against all odds
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds
Yet times I feel low
yet still I rise
Sometimes I'm troubled
But not is despair
Struggling, I make my way through
Trials they come to make me strong
I must endure, I must hold on.
Yet still I rise
Never to give up
Never to give in
agasint all odds
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds
At times I feel Low
Yet still I rise
Above all my problems
Above all my eyes can see
Knowing God is able
To strengthen me
To strengthen me
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds.
song performed by by Yolanda Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still I Rise
Shattered, but I'm not broken
Woudned still time will heal
Heavy the load the cross I bear
Lonley, the road I trod I dare
Shaken, but here I stand
Weary, still I press on
Long are the nights, the tears I cry
Dark are the days, no sun in the skys
Yet still I rise
Never to give up
Never to give in
against all odds
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds
Yet times I feel low
yet still I rise
Sometimes I'm troubled
But not is despair
Struggling, I make my way through
Trials they come to make me strong
I must endure, I must hold on.
Yet still I rise
Never to give up
Never to give in
agasint all odds
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds
At times I feel Low
Yet still I rise
Above all my problems
Above all my eyes can see
Knowing God is able
To strengthen me
To strengthen me
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds.
song performed by by Yolanda Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SONNET: If The Things We Wished Happen
The things we think, don't happen in our life;
The things happening are not as per our taste;
Our suff'rings, more than joys are very rife;
Most men on Earth are always in a haste.
We want our joys to remain forever;
We want our woes to vanish in a trice;
To achieve this, Man tries to be clever;
And chooses joys that come along with vice.
In life, we take whatever comes along;
All challenges, we ought to face bravely;
But everywhere, we choose things right from wrong;
Our failures help us face life quite boldly.
If all things happened as we think, where's God?
If not on Earth, Heaven will us reward.
poem by John Celes
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Psalm 97
v.1,3,5-7,11
C. M.
Christ's incarnation, and the last judgment.
Ye islands of the northern sea,
Rejoice, the Savior reigns;
His word, like fire, prepares his way,
And mountains melt to plains.
His presence sinks the proudest hills,
And makes the valleys rise;
The humble soul enjoys his smiles,
The haughty sinner dies.
The heav'ns his rightful power proclaim,
The idol-gods around
Fill their own worshippers with shame,
And totter to the ground.
Adoring angels at his birth
Make the Redeemer known:
Thus shall he come to judge the earth,
And angels guard his throne.
His foes shall tremble at his sight,
And hills and seas retire;
His children take their unknown flight,
And leave the world in fire.
The seeds of joy and glory sown
For saints in darkness here,
Shall rise and spring in worlds unknown,
And a rich harvest bear.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 56
The song of Moses and the Lamb.
Rev. 15:3; 16:19; 17:6.
We sing the glories of thy love,
We sound thy dreadful name;
The Christian church unites the songs
Of Moses and the Lamb.
Great God! how wondrous are thy works
Of vengeance and of grace!
Thou King of saints, Almighty Lord,
How just and true thy ways!
Who dares refuse to fear thy name,
Or worship at thy throne?
Thy judgments speak thine holiness
Through all the nations known.
Great Babylon that rules the earth,
Drunk with the martyrs' blood,
Her crimes shall speedily awake
The fury of our God.
The cup of wrath is ready mixed,
And she must drink the dregs:
Strong is the Lord, her sovereign Judge,
And shall fulfil the plagues.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Give Me Strength
This is my prayer to thee, my lord---strike,
strike at the root of penury in my heart.
Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.
Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.
Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.
Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.
And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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