Tag Archives: Sunday Hymn

The King of Love My Shepherd Is ~ Hymn

The King of Love My Shepherd Is

The King of love my Shep­herd is,
Whose good­ness fail­eth nev­er,
I no­thing lack if I am His
And He is mine for­ev­er.

Where streams of liv­ing wa­ter flow
My ran­somed soul He lead­eth,
And where the ver­dant pas­tures grow,
With food ce­les­ti­al feedeth.

Perverse and fool­ish oft I strayed,
But yet in love He sought me,
And on His shoul­der gent­ly laid,
And home, re­joic­ing, brought me.

In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
With Thee, dear Lord, be­side me;
Thy rod and staff my com­fort still,
Thy cross be­fore to guide me.

Thou spread’st a ta­ble in my sight;
Thy unc­tion grace be­stow­eth;
And O what trans­port of de­light
From Thy pure cha­lice flow­eth!

And so through all the length of days
Thy good­ness fail­eth nev­er;
Good Shep­herd, may I sing Thy praise
Within Thy house for­ev­er.

Words: Henry W. Baker, 1868.

God Holds the Future In His Hands ~ Hymn

God Holds the Future in His Hands

Dread not the things that are ahead,
The burdens great, the sinking sands,
The thorns that o’er the path are spread,
God holds the future in His hands.

Refrain

God holds the future in His hands
And every heart He understands.
On Him depend,
He is your Friend,
He holds the future in His hands.

We know not what tomorrow hides,
Of sun or storm or good or ill;
We only know His dear hand guides,
And He will be our Father still.

Refrain

His hand created earth and sky,
The zephyrs and the storms that rage,
And years to come and years gone by
To Him are but an open page.

Refrain

Live close to Him and trust His love,
Assured that while on earth we roam,
Whate’er may come, He bends above
To guide His children safely home.

Refrain

Words by James Rowe, 1922.

Zephyrs are west winds in case you were wondering…

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.

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)