Category Archives: Hymns

Have I Done My Best for Jesus? ~ Hymn

Have I Done My Best for Jesus?

I won­der, have I giv’n my best to Je­sus,
Who died up­on the cru­el tree?
To think of His great sac­ri­fice at Cal­v’ry,
I know my Lord ex­pects the best from me.

Refrain

How ma­ny are the lost that I have lift­ed?
How ma­ny are the chained I’ve helped to free?
I won­der, have I done my best for Je­sus,
When He has done so much for me?

The hours that I have wast­ed are so many,
The hours I’ve spent for Christ so few.
Because of all my lack of love for Je­sus,
I won­der if His heart is break­ing, too?

Refrain

I won­der, have I cared enough for oth­ers,
Or have I let them die alone?
I might have helped a wan­d’rer to the Sav­ior,
The seed of pre­cious Life I might have sown.

Refrain

No long­er will I stay with­in the val­ley,
I’ll climb to mount­ain heights above;
The world is dy­ing now for want of some­one
To tell them of the Sav­ior’s match­less love.

How ma­ny are the lost that I have lift­ed?
How ma­ny are the chained I’ve helped to free?
I won­der, have I done my best for Je­sus,
When He has done so much for me?

Words: E. Edwin Young, 1923.

Thy Goodness, Lord, Our Souls confess ~ Hymn

 

Thy Goodness, Lord, Our Souls Confess

Thy good­ness, Lord, our souls con­fess,
Thy good­ness we adore:
A spring, whose bless­ings nev­er fail,
A sea with­out a shore.

Sun, moon and stars Thy love at­test,
In ev­ery cheer­ful ray:
Love draws the cur­tains of the night,
And love re­stores the day.

Thy boun­ty ev­ery sea­son crowns,
With all the bliss it yields;
With joy­ful clus­ters bend the vines,
With har­vests wave the fields.

But chief­ly Thy com­pass­ions, Lord,
Are in the Gos­pel seen;
There, like the sun, Thy mer­cy shines,
Without a cloud be­tween.

Thy Son, Thy nob­lest, choic­est gift,
Was from Thy bo­som sent
To bear from off a sink­ing world
Its load of pun­ish­ment.

Pardon, ac­cept­ance, peace and joy
Are pub­lished in His name;
Ours is the life, the glo­ry ours,
And His the death and shame.

Of sov­er­eign grace how wide the reign;
How strong the cur­rent rolls
That bears to Heav’n’s un­bound­ed bliss
Our hell-de­serv­ing souls!

Words: Thomas Gibbons, 1775.

Whate’er My God Ordains is Right ~Hymn

Whate’er My God Ordains is Right

Whate’er my God or­dains is right:
His ho­ly will abid­eth;
I will be still what­e’er He doth;
And fol­low where He guid­eth;
He is my God; though dark my road,
He holds me that I shall not fall:
Wherefore to Him I leave it all.

Whate’er my God or­dains is right:
He nev­er will de­ceive me;
He leads me by the pro­per path:
I know He will not leave me.
I take, con­tent, what He hath sent;
His hand can turn my griefs away,
And pa­tient­ly I wait His day.

Whate’er my God or­dains is right:
His lov­ing thought at­tends me;
No poi­son can be in the cup
That my phy­si­cian sends me.
My God is true; each morn anew
I’ll trust His grace un­end­ing,
My life to Him com­mend­ing.

Whate’er my God or­dains is right:
He is my friend and Fa­ther;
He suf­fers naught to do me harm,
Though many storms may ga­ther,
Now I may know both joy and woe,
Some day I shall see clear­ly
That He hath loved me dear­ly.

Whate’er my God or­dains is right:
Though now this cup, in drink­ing,
May bit­ter seem to my faint heart,
I take it, all un­shrink­ing.
My God is true; each morn anew
Sweet com­fort yet shall fill my heart,
And pain and sor­row shall de­part.

Whate’er my God or­dains is right:
Here shall my stand be taken;
Though sor­row, need, or death be mine,
Yet I am not for­sak­en.
My Fa­ther’s care is round me there;
He holds me that I shall not fall:
And so to Him I leave it all.

Words: Samuel Rodigast, 1676.

I Once Was a Stranger ~ Hymn

Je­ho­vah Tsid­ke­nu is He­brew for The Lord Our Right­eous­ness.

I Once Was a Stranger

I once was a strang­er to grace and to God,
I knew not my dan­ger, and felt not my load;
Though friends spoke in rap­ture of Christ on the tree,
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu was no­thing to me.

I oft read with plea­sure, to sooth or en­gage,
Isaiah’s wild mea­sure and John’s sim­ple page;
But e’en when they pic­tured the blood sprink­led tree
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu seemed no­thing to me.

Like tears from the daugh­ters of Zi­on that roll,
I wept when the wa­ters went ov­er His soul;
Yet thought not that my sins had nailed to the tree
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu—’twas no­thing to me.

When free grace awoke me, by light from on high,
Then le­gal fears shook me, I trem­bled to die;
No re­fuge, no safe­ty in self could I see—
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu my Sav­ior must be.

My ter­rors all van­ished be­fore the sweet name;
My guil­ty fears ban­ished, with bold­ness I came
To drink at the fount­ain, life giv­ing and free—
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu is all things to me.

Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu! my trea­sure and boast,
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu! I ne’er can be lost;
In thee I shall con­quer by flood and by field,
My ca­ble, my an­chor, my breast-plate and shield!

Even tread­ing the val­ley, the sha­dow of death,
This watch­word shall ral­ly my fal­ter­ing breath;
For while from life’s fev­er my God sets me free,
Jehovah Tsid­ke­nu, my death song shall be.

Words: Robert M. McCheyne, (1813-1843)

Chosen Not for Good in Me ~ Hymn

Chosen Not for Good in Me

Chosen not for good in me,
Waked from com­ing wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Sav­ior’s side,
By the Spir­it sanc­ti­fied—
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show
By my love, how much I owe.

Oft I walk be­neath the cloud,
Dark as mid­night’s gloo­my shroud:
But, when fear is at the height,
Jesus comes, and all is light;
Blessèd Je­sus! bid me show
Doubting saints how much I owe.

Oft the nights of sor­row reign—
Weeping, sick­ness, sigh­ing, pain;
But a night Thine an­ger burns—
Morning comes, and joy re­turns:
God of com­forts! bid me show
To Thy poor how much I owe.

When in flow­ery paths I tread,
Oft by sin I’m cap­tive led;
Oft I fall, but still arise—
Jesus comes—the tempt­er flies;
Blessèd Je­sus! bid me show
Weary sin­ners all I owe.

Words: Robert M. McCheyne, (1813-1843)

Praises to Him Who Built the Hills ~ Hymn

Praises to Him Who Built the Hills

Praises to Him who built the hills;
Praises to Him the streams who fills;
Praises to Him who lights each star
That spark­les in the blue afar.

Praises to Him who makes the morn,
And bids it glow with beams new-born;
Who draws the sha­dows of the night,
Like cur­tains, o’er our wea­ried sight.

Praises to Him whose love has giv­en,
In Christ His Son, the Life of Heav­en;
Who for our dark­ness gives us light,
And turns to day our deep­est night.

Praises to Him, in grace who came,
To bear our woe, and sin, and shame;
Who lived to die, who died to rise,
The God-ac­cept­ed sac­ri­fice.

Praises to Him the chain who broke,
Opened the pri­son, burst the yoke,
Sent forth its cap­tives, glad and free,
Heirs of an end­less li­ber­ty.

Praises to Him who sheds abroad
Within our hearts the love of God;
The Spir­it of all truth and peace,
Fountain of joy and ho­li­ness!

The Fa­ther, Son, and Spir­it, now
The hands we lift, the knees we bow;
To Jah-Je­ho­vah thus we raise
The sin­ner’s song of end­less praise

Words: Horatius Bonar, 1861.

Come, My Soul, Thy Suit Prepare ~ Hymn

Come, My Soul, Thy Suit Prepare

Come, my soul, thy suit pre­pare,
Jesus loves to ans­wer pray­er;
He Him­self has bid thee pray,
Therefore will not say thee nay.

Thou art com­ing to a king,
Large pe­ti­tions with thee bring;
For His grace and pow­er are such,
None can ev­er ask too much.

With my bur­den I be­gin,
Lord, re­move this load of sin!
Let Thy blood, for sin­ners spilt,
Set my con­science free from guilt.

Lord! I come to Thee for rest,
Take pos­ses­sion of my breast;
There Thy blood bought right main­tain,
And with­out a ri­val reign.

As the im­age in the glass
Answers the be­hold­er’s face;
Thus un­to my heart ap­pear,
Print Thine own re­sem­blance there.

While I am a pil­grim here,
Let Thy love my spir­it cheer;
As my guide, my guard, my friend,
Lead me to my jour­ney’s end.

Show me what I have to do,
Every hour my strength re­new;
Let me live a life of faith,
Let me die Thy peo­ple’s death.

Words: John Newton, 1779.

Jesu, Our Hope, Our Heart’s Desire ~ Hymn

Jesu, Our Hope, Our Heart’s Desire

Jesu, our Hope, our heart’s Desire,
Thy work of grace we sing;
Redeemer of the world art Thou,
Its Maker and its King.

How vast the mercy and the love,
Which laid our sins on Thee,
And led Thee to a cruel death,
To set Thy people free!

But now the bonds of death are burst;
The ransom has been paid;
And Thou art on Thy Father’s throne,
In glorious robes arrayed.

O may Thy mighty love prevail
Our sinful souls to spare!
O may we stand around Thy throne,
And see Thy glory there!

Jesu, our only Joy be Thou,
As Thou our Prize wilt be;
In Thee be all our glory now
And through eternity.

All praise to Thee Who art gone up
Triumphantly to Heav’n;
All praise to God the Father’s Name
And Holy Ghost be given.

Words: Un­known au­thor, 7th or 8th Cen­tu­ry (Je­su nos­tra re­demp­tio, Amor et de­sid­er­i­um); trans­lat­ed from La­tin to Eng­lish by John Chand­ler (Hymns of the Prim­i­tive Church, 1837) and the com­pil­ers of Hymns An­cient and Mo­dern, 1861.

Sovereign Ruler of the Skies ~Hymn

Sovereign Ruler of the Skies

Sovereign ruler of the skies,
Ever gracious, ever wise,
All my times are in your hand,
All events at your command!

His decree, who formed the earth,
Fixed my first and second birth;
Parents, native place, and time,
All appointed were by Him

He who formed me in the womb
He shall guide me to the tomb.
All my times shall ever be,
Ordered by His wise decree!

Times of sickness, times of health,
Times of poverty and of wealth;
Times of trial, and of grief
Times of triumph, and relief.

Plagues and death around me fly;
Till he bids, I cannot die!
Not a single shaft can hit,
Till the God of love sees fit!

O Thou gra­cious, wise and just,
In Thy hands my life I trust;
Have I some­what dear­er still?
I re­sign it to Thy will.

Thee, at all times, will I bless;
Having Thee, I all pos­sess;
I can ne’er be­reav­èd be,
Since I can­not part with Thee.

John Ryland (1753-1825)

I Was a Wandering Sheep ~ Hymn

I Was a Wandering Sheep

I was a wan­der­ing sheep,
I did not love the fold;
I did not love my Shep­herd’s voice,
I would not be con­trolled.
I was a way­ward child,
I did not love my home;
I did not love my Fa­ther’s voice,
I loved afar to roam.

The Shep­herd sought His sheep,
The Fa­ther sought His child;
They fol­lowed me o’er vale and hill,
O’er des­erts waste and wild;
They found me nigh to death,
Famished and faint and lone;
They bound me with the bands of love,
They saved the wan­d’ring one.

They spoke in ten­der love,
They raised my droop­ing head,
They gent­ly closed my bleed­ing wounds,
My faint­ing soul they fed;
They washed my filth away,
They made me clean and fair;
They brought me to my home in peace,
The long sought wan­der­er.

Jesus my Shep­herd is:
’Twas He that loved my soul;
’Twas He that washed me in His blood,
’Twas He that made me whole.
’Twas He that sought the lost,
That found the wan­d’ring sheep,
’Twas He that brought me to the fold,
’Tis He that still doth keep.

No more a wan­der­ing sheep,
I love to be con­trolled;
I love my ten­der Shep­herd’s voice,
I love the peace­ful fold.
No more a way­ward child,
I seek no more to roam;
I love my heav’n­ly Fa­ther’s voice,
I love, I love His home!

Words: Horatius Bonar, 1843.