Psalm XXXII: Happy the Man
Happy the man to whom his God
No more imputes his sin,
But, washed in the Redeemer's blood,
Hath made his garments clean.
Happy beyond expression he
Who debts are thus discharged;
And from the guilty bondage free,
He feels his soul enlarged.
His spirit hates deceit and lies,
His words are all sincere;
He guards his heart, he guards his eyes,
To keep his conscience clear.
While I my inward guilt suppressed,
No quiet could I find;
Thy wrath lay burning in my breast,
And racked my tortured mind.
Then I confessed my troubled thoughts,
My secret sins revealed;
Thy pard'ning grace forgave my faults,
Thy grace my pardon sealed.
This shall invite thy saints to pray;
When like a raging flood
Temptations rise, our strength and stay
Is a forgiving God.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 32 Part 2
A guilty conscience eased by confession and pardon.
While I keep silence, and conceal
My heavy guilt within my heart,
What torments doth my conscience feel!
What agonies of inward smart!
I spread my sins before the Lord,
And all my secret faults confess;
Thy gospel speaks a pard'ning word,
Thine Holy Spirit seals the grace.
For this shall every humble soul
Make swift addresses to thy seat;
When floods of huge temptations roll,
There shall they find a bless'd retreat.
How safe beneath thy wings I lie,
When days grow dark and storms appear;
And when I walk, thy watchful eye
Shall guide me safe from every snare.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 32 part 1
Repentance and free pardon.
Blest is the man, for ever blest,
Whose guilt is pardoned by his God;
Whose sins with sorrow are confessed,
And covered with his Savior's blood.
Blest is the man to whom the Lord
Imputes not his iniquities;
He pleads no merit of reward,
And not on works, but grace relies.
From guile his heart and lips are free;
His humble joy, his holy fear,
With deep repentance well agree,
And join to prove his faith sincere.
How glorious is that righteousness
That hides and cancels all his sins,
While a bright evidence of grace
Through his whole life appears and shine!
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 32
Forgiveness of sins upon confession.
O Blessed souls are they
Whose sins are covered o'er!
Divinely blest, to whom the Lord
Imputes their guilt no more.
They mourn their follies past,
And keep their hearts with care;
Their lips and lives, without deceit,
Shall prove their faith sincere.
While I concealed my guilt,
I felt the fest'ring wound;
Till I confessed my sins to thee,
And ready pardon found.
Let sinners learn to pray,
Let saints keep near the throne;
Our help, in times of deep distress,
Is found in God alone.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 51 part 1
A penitent pleading for pardon.
Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive,
Let a repenting rebel live:
Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in thee?
My crimes are great, but not surpass
The power and glory of thy grace:
Great God, thy nature hath no bound,
So let thy pard'ning love be found.
O wash my soul from every sin,
And make my guilty conscience clean;
Here on my heart the burden lies,
And past offences pain my eyes.
My lips with shame my sins confess
Against thy law, against thy grace:
Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,
I am condemned, but thou art clear.
Should sudden vengeance seize my breath,
I must pronounce thee just in death;
And if my soul were sent to hell,
Thy righteous law approves it well.
Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord,
Whose hope, still hov'ring round thy word,
Would light on some sweet promise there,
Some sure support against despair.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 51 part 2
Original and actual sin confessed.
Lord, I am vile, conceived in sin;
And born unholy and unclean;
Sprung from the man whose guilty fall
Corrupts the race, and taints us all.
Soon as we draw our infant breath,
The seeds of sin grow up for death;
Thy law demands a perfect heart,
But we're defiled in every part.
[Great God, create my heart anew,
And form my spirit pure and true;
O make me wise betimes to spy
My danger and my remedy.]
Behold, I fall before thy face;
My only refuge is thy grace:
No outward forms can make me clean
The leprosy lies deep within.
No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast,
Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the dismal stain away.
Jesus, my God, thy blood alone
Hath power sufficient to atone;
Thy blood can make me white as snow
No Jewish types could cleanse me so.
While guilt disturbs and breaks my peace,
Nor flesh nor soul hath rest or ease;
Lord, let me hear thy pard'ning voice,
And make my broken bones rejoice.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 25 part 1
v.1-11
S. M.
Waiting for pardon and direction.
I Lift my soul to God,
My trust is in his name:
Let not my foes that seek my blood
Still triumph in my shame.
Sin, and the powers of hell,
Persuade me to despair:
Lord, make me know thy cov'nant well,
That I may 'scape the snare.
From the first dawning light
Till the dark ev'ning rise,
For thy salvation, Lord, I wait
With ever-longing eyes.
Remember all thy grace,
And lead me in thy truth;
Forgive the sins of riper days,
And follies of my youth.
The Lord is just and kind,
The meek shall learn his ways,
And every humble sinner find
The methods of his grace.
For his own goodness' sake
He saves my soul from shame:
He pardons, though my guilt be great,
Through my Redeemer's name.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 25 part 3
v.15-22
S. M.
Distress of soul; or, Backsliding and desertion.
Mine eyes and my desire
Are ever to the Lord;
I love to plead his promises,
And rest upon his word.
Turn, turn thee to my soul,
Bring thy salvation near;
When will thy hand release my feet
Out of the deadly snare?
When shall the sovereign grace
Of my forgiving God
Restore me from those dangerous ways
My wand'ring feet have trod?
The tumult of my thoughts
Doth but enlarge my woe;
My spirit languishes, my heart
Is desolate and low.
With ev'ry morning light
My sorrow new begins;
Look on my anguish and my pain,
And pardon all my sins.
PAUSE.
Behold the hosts of hell,
How cruel is their hate!
Against my life they rise, and join
Their fury with deceit.
O keep my soul from death,
Nor put my hope to shame,
For I have placed my only trust
In my Redeemer's name.
With humble faith I wait
To see thy face again:
Of Isr'el it shall ne'er be said,
He sought the Lord in vain.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Saturday Evening
Safely through another week,
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
On th' approaching Sabbath-day:
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.
Mercies multiply'd each hour
Through the week our praise demand
Guarded by Almighty pow'r,
Fed and guided by his hand:
Though ungrateful we have been,
Only made returns of sin.
While we pray for pard'ning grace,
Through the dear Redeemer's name,
Show thy reconciled face,
Shine away our sin and shame:
From our worldly care set free,
May we rest this night with thee.
When the morn shall bid us rise,
May we feel thy presence near!
May thy glory meet our eyes
When we in thy house appear!
There afford us, Lord, a taste
Of our everlasting feast.
May thy Gospel's joyful sound
Conquer sinners, comfort saints;
Make the fruits of grace abound,
Bring relief for all complaints:
Thus may all our Sabbaths prove,
Till we join the church above!
poem by John Newton
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Hymn 87
God dwells with the humble and penitent.
Isa. 47:15,16.
Thus saith the high and lofty One:
"I sit upon my holy throne;
My name is God, I dwell on high,
Dwell in my own eternity.
"But I descend to worlds below,
On earth I have a mansion too;
The humble spirit and contrite
Is an abode of my delight.
"The humble soul my words revive,
I bid the mourning sinner live,
Heal all the broken hearts I find,
And ease the sorrows of the mind.
["When I contend against their sin,
I make them know how vile they've been;
But should my wrath for ever smoke,
Their souls would sink beneath my stroke."]
O may thy pard'ning grace be nigh,
Lest we should faint, despair, and die!
Thus shall our better thoughts approve
The methods of thy chast'ning love.
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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Psalm 119 part 11
Breathing after holiness.
ver. 5,33
O that the Lord would guide my ways
To keep his statutes still!
O that my God would grant me grace
To know and do his will!
ver. 29
O send thy Spirit down to write
Thy law upon my heart!
Nor let my tongue indulge deceit,
Nor act the liar's part.
ver. 37,36
From vanity turn off my eyes;
Let no corrupt design,
Nor covetous desires, arise
Within this soul of mine.
ver. 133
Order my footsteps by thy word,
And make my heart sincere;
Let sin have no dominion, Lord,
But keep my conscience clear.
ver. 176
My soul hath gone too far astray,
My feet too often slip;
Yet since I've not forgot thy way,
Restore thy wand'ring sheep.
ver. 35
Make me to walk in thy commands,
'Tis a delightful road;
Nor let my head, or heart, or hands,
Offend against my God.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 140
A living and a dead faith. Collected from several scriptures.
Mistaken souls, that dream of heav'n,
And make their empty boast
Of inward joys, and sins forgiv'n,
While they are slaves to lust!
Vain are our fancies, airy flights,
If faith be cold and dead;
None but a living power unites
To Christ the living head.
'Tis faith that changes all the heart;
'Tis faith that works by love;
That bids all sinful joys depart,
And lifts the thoughts above.
'Tis faith that conquers earth and hell
By a celestial power;
This is the grace that shall prevail
In the decisive hour.
[Faith must obey her Father's will,
As well as trust his grace;
A pard'ning God is jealous still
For his own holiness.]
When from the curse he sets us free,
He makes our natures clean;
Nor would he send his Son to be
The minister of sin.
[His Spirit purifies our frame,
And seals our peace with God;
Jesus and his salvation came
By water and by blood.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 98
Christ our wisdom, righteousness, etc.
1 Cor. 1:30.
How heavy is the night
That hangs upon our eyes,
Till Christ with his reviving light
Over our souls arise!
Our guilty spirits dread
To meet the wrath of Heav'n;
But, in his righteousness arrayed,
We see our sins forgiv'n.
Unholy and impure
Are all our thoughts and ways;
His hands infected nature cure
With sanctifying grace.
The powers of hell agree
To hold our souls in vain;
He sets the sons of bondage free,
And breaks the cursed chain
Lord, we adore thy ways
To bring us near to God;
Thy sovereign power, thy healing grace,
And thine atoning blood.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Pleasant Are Thy Courts Above
Pleasant are Thy courts above,
In the land of light and love;
Pleasant are Thy courts below
In this land of sin and woe;
O, my spirit longs and faints
For the converse of Thy saints,
For the brightness of Thy face,
For Thy fullness, God of grace.
Happy birds that sing and fly
Round Thy altars, O most High;
Happier souls that find a rest
In a heavenly Father’s breast;
Like the wandering dove that found
No repose on earth around,
They can to their ark repair,
And enjoy it ever there.
Happy souls, their praises flow
Even in this vale of woe;
Waters in the desert rise,
Manna feeds them from the skies;
On they go from strength to strength,
Till they reach Thy throne at length,
At Thy feet adoring fall,
Who hast led them safe through all.
Lord, be mine this prize to win,
Guide me through a world of sin,
Keep me by Thy saving grace,
Give me at Thy side a place;
Sun and shield alike Thou art,
Guide and guard my erring heart.
Grace and glory flow from Thee;
Shower, O shower them, Lord, on me.
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Psalm 97 part 3
Grace and glory.
Th' Almighty reigns exalted high
O'er all the earth, o'er all the sky;
Though clouds and darkness veil his feet,
His dwelling is the mercy-seat.
O ye that love his holy name,
Hate every work of sin and shame;
He guards the souls of all his friends,
And from the snares of hell defends.
Immortal light and joys unknown
Are for the saints in darkness sown
Those glorious seeds shall spring and rise,
And the bright harvest bless our eyes.
Rejoice, ye righteous, and record
The sacred honors of the Lord:
None but the soul that feels his grace
Can triumph in his holiness.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Old-Testament Gospel
Israel in ancient days,
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learned the gospel too:
The types and figures were a glass
In which they saw the Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice,
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlightened eyes,
And once applied with pow'r;
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood, of matchless worth,
Should be the soul's defence:
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of his own.
The scape-goat on his head
The peoples' trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him, our Surety seemed to say,
Behold, I bear your sins away.
Dipped in his fellows' blood,
The living bird went free,
The type, well understood,
Expressed the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus I love to trace
Throughout the sacred page;
The footsteps of thy grace,
The same in every age!
O grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light, vouchsafed to me.
poem by John Newton
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Olney Hymn 20: Old Testament Gospel
Israel in ancient days
Not only had a view
Of Sinai in a blaze,
But learn'd the Gospel too;
The types and figures were a glass,
In which thy saw a Saviour's face.
The paschal sacrifice
And blood-besprinkled door,
Seen with enlighten'd eyes,
And once applied with power,
Would teach the need of other blood,
To reconcile an angry God.
The Lamb, the Dove, set forth
His perfect innocence,
Whose blood of matchless worth
Whould be the soul's defence;
For he who can for sin atone,
Must have no failings of His own.
The scape-goat on his head
The people's trespass bore,
And to the desert led,
Was to be seen no more:
In him our surety seem'd to say,
'Behold, I bear your sins away.'
Dipt in his fellow's blood,
The living bird went free;
The type, well understood,
Express'd the sinner's plea;
Described a guilty soul enlarged,
And by a Saviour's death discharged.
Jesus, I love to trace,
Throughout the sacred page,
The footsteps of Thy grace,
The same in every age!
Oh, grant that I may faithful be
To clearer light vouchsafed to me!
poem by William Cowper
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Psalm 103 part 2
v.8-18
L. M.
God's gentle chastisement; or, His tender mercy to his people.
The Lord, how wondrous are his ways!
How firm his truth! how large his grace!
He takes his mercy for his throne,
And thence he makes his glories known.
Not half so high his power hath spread
The starry heav'ns above our head,
As his rich love exceeds our praise,
Exceeds the highest hopes we raise.
Not half so far hath nature placed
The rising morning from the west,
As his forgiving grace removes
The daily guilt of those he loves.
How slowly doth his wrath arise!
On swifter wings salvation flies;
And if he lets his anger burn,
How soon his frowns to pity turn
Amidst his wrath compassion shines;
His strokes are lighter than our sins
And while his rod corrects his saints,
His ear indulges their complaints.
So fathers their young sons chastise
With gentle hand and melting eyes;
The children weep beneath the smart,
And move the pity of their heart.
PAUSE.
The mighty God, the wise and just,
Knows that our frame is feeble dust;
And will no heavy loads impose
Beyond the strength that he bestows.
He knows how soon our nature dies,
Blasted by every wind that flies;
Like grass we spring, and die as soon,
Or morning flowers that fade at noon.
But his eternal love is sure
To all the saints, and shall endure;
From age to age his truth shall reign,
Nor children's children hope in vain.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Saved From Grace
Save your self from grace
We must make haste
Its not what you think
Ugly is the sate of mind
Beauty being but in on the inside
With words that rhyme I try describe
What has already been inscribed
Save your self from grace
Your must have a taste
Sweet and sincere
Its unending my dear
But tells me nothing of who you really are
The skin only stretches so far
Save your self from grace
Remember this place
Hold it in your thoughts forever
For it will become the words another unwritten letter
Light as a feather
If only free the mind
Only in dark places shall we find
Save your self from grace
With a hope and a tear drop, I only hope the heart break can be erased
Let it be replaced
Begin a new
A magic formula is my glue
My hope and wish are meant for you
If only another day you get through
But you must save your self from grace
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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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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