Old Testament Gospel
(Hebrews, iv.2)
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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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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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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Nothing But the Blood
What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
For my pardon this I see -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
For my cleansing, this my plea -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Nothing can for sin atone -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
Naught of good that I have done -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
This is all my hope and peace -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
This is all my righteousness -
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
CHORUS
Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Close To Jesus
Close to Jesus, so few have been, yet with their stories told,
Through these we see the Nazarene, the Saviour to behold...
From birth to death and far beyond, God's Son has proved His worth
And thus, to Him, we each respond, while we live on this Earth...
Of those we know, some prophets shared what they perceived of Christ,
At whom the disbelievers stared the day He was baptised...
Yet John the Baptist spoke the truth, 'Behold the Lamb of God! '
Though just to them, He seemed a youth, for these, He shed His Blood!
To think, He healed the sick He met and those then brought to Him,
Forgiving sins that caused regret, for guilt can make us grim...
The multitudes were like lost sheep, each one had lost his way,
When God's commands they wouldn't keep, He taught them how to pray.
But while His fame was widely known, disciples came and went,
Until Saint Peter stood alone and called Him Heaven-sent...
'You are the Christ, God's promised Son! No other can we seek!
You speak the words, then deeds are done that make You quite unique! '
Though Peter knew the truth full well, the Saviour he denied!
Three times he lied and wouldn't tell, with Christ soon crucified...
Through John and Mary's eyes we see the Saviour lifted high,
The Lamb of God met Calvary... His destiny... to die...
It didn't end with mortal death, as one would first assume
Behold Jesus of Nazareth, not bound by any tomb!
God raised Him up from Death's embrace, from Hell to Heaven's Throne!
Through Him, receive God's perfect grace... Believe in Christ alone.
His Blood can cleanse and make us whole, for He makes all things new!
Let Jesus in to save your soul... Let Him come close to you...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011.
The poem is based on the Gospel teachings
in the Close To Jesus DVD dramatisations
the Amazon shopping website found for me.
poem by Denis Martindale
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O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing
O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of his grace!
My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honours of thy name.
Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
'Tis music in the sinner's ears,
'Tis life, and health, and peace.
He breaks the power of cancelled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood availed for me.
He speaks, and, listening to his voice,
New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.
Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Saviour come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.
Look unto him, ye nations, own
Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.
See all your sins on Jesus laid:
The Lamb of God was slain,
His soul was once an offering made
For every soul of man.
Awake from guilty nature's sleep,
And Christ shall give you light,
Cast all your sins into the deep,
And wash the Æthiop white.
With me, your chief, ye then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn I: O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing
O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of his grace!
My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honours of thy name.
Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
'Tis music in the sinner's ears,
'Tis life, and health, and peace.
He breaks the power of cancelled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood availed for me.
He speaks, and, listening to his voice,
New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.
Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Saviour come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.
Look unto him, ye nations, own
Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.
See all your sins on Jesus laid:
The Lamb of God was slain,
His soul was once an offering made
For every soul of man.
Awake from guilty nature's sleep,
And Christ shall give you light,
Cast all your sins into the deep,
And wash the Æthiop white.
With me, your chief, ye then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.
poem by John Wesley
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Hymn 150
The offices of Christ. From several scriptures.
Join all the glorious names
Of wisdom, love, and power,
That ever mortals knew,
That angels ever bore:
All are too mean to speak his worth,
Too mean to set my Savior forth.
But O what gentle terms,
What condescending ways,
Doth our Redeemer use
To teach his heav'nly grace!
Mine eyes with joy and wonder see
What forms of love he bears for me.
[Arrayed in mortal flesh,
He like an angel stands,
And holds the promises
And pardons in his hands;
Commissioned from his Father's throne
To make his grace to mortals known.]
[Great Prophet of my God,
My tongue would bless thy name;
By thee the joyful news
Of our salvation came:
The joyful news of sins forgiv'n,
Of hell subdued, and peace with heav'n.]
[Be thou my Counsellor,
My Pattern, and my Guide;
And through this desert land
Still keep me near thy side:
O let my feet ne'er run astray,
Nor rove, nor seek the crooked way.]
[I love my Shepherd's voice,
His watchful eyes shall keep
My wand'ring soul among
The thousands of his sheep:
He feeds his flock, he calls their names,
His bosom bears the tender lambs.]
[To this dear Surety's hand
Will I commit my cause;
He answers and fulfils
His Father's broken laws:
Behold my soul at freedom set!
My Surety paid the dreadful debt.]
[Jesus, my great High Priest,
Offered his blood, and died;
My guilty conscience seeks
No sacrifice beside:
His powerful blood did once atone,
And now it pleads before the throne.]
[My Advocate appears
For my defence on high;
The Father bows his ears,
And lays his thunder by:
Not all that hell or sin can say
Shall turn his heart, his love away.]
[My dear Almighty Lord,
My Conqueror and my King!
Thy sceptre and thy sword,
Thy reigning grace I sing:
Thine is the power; behold, I sit
In willing bonds before thy feet.]
[Now let my soul arise,
And tread the tempter down;
My Captain leads me forth
To conquest and a crown:
A feeble saint shall win the day,
Though death and hell obstruct the way.]
Should all the hosts of death,
And powers of hell unknown,
Put their most dreadful forms
Of rage and mischief on,
I shall be safe, for Christ displays
Superior power, and guardian grace.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Jesus Dedicated The Law Of Baptism
Jesus took bread blessed broke it
gave it to his disciples and said
'Take, eat; this is My body.'
Jesus took the cup gave thanks
gave it to his chosen disciples
saying 'Drink from it, all of you.
For this is My blood
of the new covenant,
which is shed for many
for the remission of sins. ' Matthew 26: 26-28.
Jesus becomes Christian Covenant
it was necessary
copies of utensils in heaven
should be purified
Christ entered not
into holy places
made with hands
dedicated true copies
Christ entered into heaven
to appear in the presence of God
not as the high priest enters
the most Holy of Holies
once every year with offering blood
animal blood for our sins
Christ freely made atonement
sacrifice his own suffering blood
for the atonement of our sins Hebrews 9: 23-26.
Christ entered not
by means of the blood
of goats and calves
Christ entered the Most
Holy Place once for all
by his own sacred blood
having obtained eternal redemption Hebrews 9: 12.
'How much more, then, will the blood
of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit
offered himself unblemished to God,
cleanse our consciences from acts
that lead to death, so that
we may serve the living God! ' Hebrews 9: 14.
a Christian Covenant blood dedicated
a Spiritual Israelite Law of Jesus Christ
a Spiritual Circumcision Baptism in Christ
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Today... 'Our Passover Lamb
Blood from the lamb was on the lintel spread
and the people waited in fear and dread.
They could all hear the people outside cry
but the Angel of Death just passed them by.
Because a lamb had been slain and had died
and its blood upon the doorpost applied
Death did not visit them that dreadful day
but passed over them and went on its way.
**********
His life was given and His blood was shed
when He died that awful day in my stead.
The pure unspotted Lamb of God was He.
God saw the blood and then passed over me.
He gave His life to pay sins dreadful price
and offered Himself as a sacrifice.
Crying 'Father forgive' with His last breath
He snatched me from the very jaws of death.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Lovest Thou Me?
(John, xxi.16)
Hark my soul! it is the Lord;
'Tis Thy Saviour, hear His word;
Jesus speaks and speaks to thee,
"Say poor sinner, lovst thou me?
"I deliver'd thee when bound,
And when bleeding, heal'd thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turn'd thy darkness into light.
"Can a woman's tender care
Cease towards the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.
"Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.
"Thou shalt see my glory soon,
When the work of grace is done;
Partner of my throne shalt be;
Say, poor sinner, lovst thou me?"
Lord it is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love Thee and adore, --
Oh! for grace to love Thee more!
poem by William Cowper
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Nothin But The Blood
Words & music:michael w. smith and chris harris
Woa-o-woa-oah-woa-o-woa-oah
Woa-o-woa-oah-woa-o-woa-oah
Woa-o-woa-oah-woa-o-woa-oah
Woa-o-woa-oah-woa-o-woa-oah
What can wash away my sins
(theres) nothing but the blood of jesus
What can make me whole again
Nothing but the blood of jesus
This is all my righteousness
Its nothing but the blood of jesus
This is all my hope and peace
Nothing but the blood of jesus
Nothing but the blood of jesus
Nothing but the blood of jesus
Nothing but the blood of jesus
Nothing but the blood of jesus
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Blood Of Jesus
Every minute, every hour,
The blood of Jesus is the power,
It's the power over sickness and disease,
It's the power that sets you free.
The blood of Jesus will turn your life around,
In your daily life peace will abound,
It will set you free from anxiety,
Through Jesus' blood you will have a victory.
Plead the blood of Jesus without delay,
Pour the blood over bad circumstances today,
Try the blood of Jesus and you will see,
The blood of Jesus means victory.
poem by Elizabeth Skerencak
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An Easy Mistake To Make...
'O Autumn mist! O solemn shroud! O cloud that walks the Earth!
Please hide the sins God disallowed that haunt me from my birth!
Come freeze them hard, come melt them down, come bear them all away!
Forbid them not to make God frown upon His Judgement Day!
Approach me now, encroach my heart, my spirit and my soul -
That with my sins you may depart that I may find parole!
Let guilts diminish one by one, evaporate from sight
And once the healing has begun, leave me all sparkling white! '
'Forgive me, human, if you will! I cannot bring release!
You need God's Son on Calvary's Hill! His Blood will grant you peace!
What sacrifice could I convey to match the Saviour's Blood?
Believe in Jesus Christ today! Have faith and trust in God! '
'O mighty mist, your words are true! Lord Jesus died for me! '
'I'm glad you're saved! May God bless you! God's Love's no mystery! '
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Legend Of The Crossbill. (From The German Of Julius Mosen)
On the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.
And by all the world forsaken,
Sees he how with zealous care
At the ruthless nail of iron
A little bird is striving there.
Stained with blood and never tiring,
With its beak it doth not cease,
From the cross 't would free the Saviour,
Its Creator's Son release.
And the Saviour speaks in mildness:
'Blest be thou of all the good!
Bear, as token of this moment,
Marks of blood and holy rood!'
And that bird is called the crossbill;
Covered all with blood so clear,
In the groves of pine it singeth
Songs, like legends, strange to hear.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Hymn 91
Advice to youth; or, Old age and death in an unconverted state.
Eccl. 12:1,7; Isa. 45:20.
Now in the heat of youthful blood
Remember your Creator God:
Behold, the months come hast'ning on,
When you shall say, "My joys are gone!"
Behold, the aged sinner goes,
Laden with guilt and heavy woes,
Down to the regions of the dead,
With endless curses on his head.
The dust returns to dust again;
The soul, in agonies of pain,
Ascends to God, not there to dwell,
But hears her doom, and sinks to hell.
Eternal King! I fear thy name;
Teach me to know how frail I am;
And when my soul must hence remove,
Give me a mansion in thy love.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Contentment
(Phillipians, iv.11)
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.
"Art thou a sinner, soul?" He said,
"Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!
"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
"'Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
"In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away."
Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.
poem by William Cowper
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Horace, Seventh Epode
Whither, whither, reckless Romans,
Are you rushing, sword in hand?
Has not yet the blood of brothers,
Fully stained the sea and land?
Not that raging conflagration
Should o’er fallen Carthage play;
Not that the unconquered Briton
Should descend the sacred way.
"Rome," exclaims the joyful Parthian,
"Ruin for herself prepares;
Wolves with wolves are never savage,
Lion lion never tears."
Is this fury? is it madness?
Speedy answer I demand;
Foolish, blinded, guilty Romans,
Silent, stupefied you stand. [590]
Thus ’tis fated, blood of brothers
Must atone for brothers’ guilt,
Since the blood of injured Remus
Romulus in anger spilt.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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Hymn 149
The offices of Christ. From several scriptures.
Join all the names of love and power
That ever men or angels bore,
All are too mean to speak his worth,
Or set lmmannel's glory forth.
But O what condescending ways
He takes to teach his heav'nly grace
My eyes with joy and wonder see
What forms of love he bears for me.
[The Angel of the cov'nant stands
With his commission in his hands,
Sent from his Father's milder throne,
To make the great salvation known.]
[Great Prophet! let me bless thy name;
By thee the joyful tidings came
Of wrath appeased, of sins forgiv'n,
Of hell subdued, and peace with heav'n.]
[My bright Example and my Guide,
I would be walking near thy side;
O let me never run astray,
Nor follow the forbidden way!]
[I love my Shepherd, he shall keep
My wand'ring soul among his sheep;
He feeds his flock, he calls their names,
And in his bosom bears the lambs.]
[My Surety undertakes my cause,
Answering his Father's broken laws:
Behold my soul at freedom set,
My Surety paid the dreadful debt.]
[Jesus, my great High Priest, has died;
I seek no sacrifice beside;
His blood did once for all atone,
And now it pleads before the throne.]
[My Advocate appears on high,
The Father lays his thunder by;
Not all that earth or hell can say
Shall turn my Father's heart away.]
[My Lord, my Conqueror, and my King!
Thy sceptre and thy sword I sing;
Thine is the vict'ry, and I sit
A joyful subject at thy feet.]
[Aspire, my soul, to glorious deeds,
The Captain of salvation leads;
March on, nor fear to win the day,
Though death and hell obstruct the way.]
[Should death, and hell, and powers unknown,
Put all their forms of mischief on,
I shall be safe; for Christ displays
Salvation in more sovereign ways.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 40
v.5-10
L. M.
Christ our sacrifice.
The wonders, Lord, thy love has wrought,
Exceed our praise, surmount our thought;
Should I attempt the long detail,
My speech would faint, my numbers fail,
No blood of beasts on altars spilt
Can cleanse the souls of men from guilt;
But thou hast set before our eyes
An all-sufficient sacrifice.
Lo! thine eternal Son appears,
To thy designs he bows his ears,
Assumes a body well prepared,
And well performs a work so hard.
"Behold, I come," the Savior cries,
With love and duty in his eyes,
"I come to bear the heavy load
Of sins, and do thy will, my God.
"'Tis written in thy great decree,
'Tis in thy book foretold of me,
I must fulfil the Savior's part;
And lo! thy law is in my heart!
"I'll magnify thy holy law,
And rebels to obedience draw,
When on my cross I'm lifted high,
Or to my crown above the sky.
"The Spirit shall descend and show
What thou hast done, and what I do
The wond'ring world shall learn thy grace,
Thy wisdom, and thy righteousness."
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn IX: Sinners, Obey the Gospel-Word!
Sinners, obey the gospel-word!
Haste to the supper of my Lord!
Be wise to know your gracious day;
All things are ready, come away!
Ready the Father is to own
And kiss his late-returning son;
Ready your loving Saviour stands,
And spreads for you his bleeding hands.
Ready the Spirit of his love
Just now the stony to remove,
To apply, and witness with the blood,
And wash and seal the sons of God.
Ready for you the angels wait,
To triumph in your blest estate;
Tuning their harps, they long to praise
The wonders of redeeming grace.
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Is ready, with their shining host:
All heaven is ready to resound,
"The dead's alive! the lost is found!"
Come then, ye sinners, to your Lord,
In Christ to paradise restored;
His proffered benefits embrace,
The plenitude of gospel grace:
A pardon written with his blood,
The favour and the peace of God;
The seeing eye, the feeling sense,
The mystic joys of penitence;
The godly grief, the pleasing smart,
The meltings of a broken heart,
The tears that tell your sins forgiven,
The sighs that waft your souls to heaven;
The guiltless shame, the sweet distress,
The unutterable tenderness,
The genuine, meek humility,
The wonder, "Why such love to me?"
The o'erwhelming power of saving grace,
The sight that veils the seraph's face;
The speechless awe that dares not move,
And all the silent heaven of love.
poem by John Wesley
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