O Love of God, How Strong and True ~ Hymn

O Love of God, How Strong and True

O love of God, how strong and true!
Eternal and yet ever new;
Uncomprehended and unbought,
Beyond all knowledge and all thought.

O love of God, how deep and great!
Far deeper than man’s deepest hate;
Self-fed, self-kindled, like the light,
Changeless, eternal, infinite.

O heav’nly love, how precious still,
In days of weariness and ill!
In nights of pain and helplessness,
To heal, to comfort, and to bless.

O wide embracing, wondrous love,
We read Thee in the sky above,
We read Thee in the earth below,
In seas that swell, and streams that flow.

We read Thee in the flowers, the trees,
The freshness of the fragrant breeze,
The song of birds upon the wing,
The joy of summer and of spring.

We read Thee best in Him who came
To bear for us the cross of shame;
Sent by the Father from on high,
Our life to live, our death to die.

We read Thee in the manger-bed,
On which His infancy was laid;
And Nazareth that love reveals,
Nestling amid its lonely hills.

We read Thee in the tears once shed,
Over doomed Salem’s guilty head,
In the cold tomb of Bethany,
And blood-drops of Gethsemane.

We read Thy power to bless and save,
E’en in the darkness of the grave;
Still more in resurrection light,
We read the fullness of Thy might.

O love of God, our shield and stay
Through all the perils of our way;
Eternal love, in Thee we rest,
Forever safe, forever blest!

Words: Horatius Bonar, 1861.

This hymn was sung at the 2004 funeral of American president Ronald Reagan.

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.

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.

I Hear the Words of Love ~ Hymn

I Hear the Words of Love

I hear the words of love,
I gaze upon the blood,
I see the mighty sacrifice,
And I have peace with God.

’Tis everlasting peace!
Sure as Jehovah’s name,
’Tis stable as His steadfast throne,
For evermore the same.

The clouds may go and come,
And storms may sweep my sky;
This blood-sealed friendship changes not,
The cross is ever nigh.

My love is ofttimes low,
My joy still ebbs and flows;
But peace with Him remains the same,
No change Jehovah knows.

That which can shake the cross
May shake the peace it gave,
Which tells me Christ has never died,
Or never left the grave!

Till then my peace is sure,
It will not, cannot yield,
Jesus, I know, has died and lives—
On this firm rock I build.

I change, He changes not,
The Christ can never die;
His love, not mine, the resting place,
His truth, not mine, the tie.

The cross still stands unchanged,
Though Heav’n is now His home,
The mighty stone is rolled away,
But yonder is His tomb!

And yonder is my peace,
The grave of all my woes!
I know the Son of God has come,
I know He died and rose.

I know He liveth now,
At God’s right hand above,
I know the throne on which He sits,
I know His truth and love.

Words: Horatius Bonar, (1808-1889)

Happy New Year everyone!

Glory to God in highest heaven,

Who unto man His Son hath given;

While angels sing with tender mirth,

A glad new year to all the earth.

~Martin Luther

Not What I Am, O Lord, But What Thou Art

Not What I Am, O Lord, But What Thou Art

Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art!
That, that alone can be my soul’s true rest:
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,
And stills the tempest of my throbbing breast.

It is Thy perfect love that casts out fear;
I know the voice that speaks the It is I;
And in these well known words of heav’nly cheer,
I hear the joy that bids each sorrow fly.

Thy name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;
Thy name is Love! I read it in yon tomb:
All meaner love is perishable dross,
But this shall light me thro’ time’s thickest gloom.

It blesses now, and shall for ever bless,
It saves me now, and shall for ever save;
It holds me up in days of helplessness,
It bears me safely o’er each swelling wave.

Girt with the love of God on every side,
Breathing that love as Heav’ns own healing air,
I work or wait, still following my guide,
Braving each foe, escaping every snare.

’Tis what I know of Thee, my Lord and God,
That fills my soul with peace, my lips with song:
Thou art my health, my joy, my staff and rod;
Leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong.

I am all want and hunger; this faint heart
Pines for a fullness which it finds not here;
Dear ones are leaving, and, as they depart,
Make room within for something yet more dear.

More of Thyself, O show me hour by hour;
More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord:
More of Thyself in all Thy grace and power,
More of Thy love and truth, incarnate Word!

Words: Horatius Bonar, 1861,