Christian Poetry & Praise

Poetry Gallery #3

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Poetry Gallery - Poetry Page 3

Poetry in Public Domain
We use Christian poetry in the public domain. There are several ways in which poetry can enter the public domain. The most common way is for the copyright protection to expire. Another way is for a poet to formally offer a poem to the public domain, thereby surrendering the personal ownership of it. This poetry is free for you to use in whatever way you wish. There are no copyright restrictions on the poems in this section of our site. Please remember that poetry that is not labeled "public domain" is cannot be used without permission.


The heavenly treasure now we have
In a vile house of clay!
Yet He shall to the utmost save,
And keep it to that day.

While thus we bestow Our moments below,
Ourselves we forsake,
And refuge in Jesus's righteousness take.
His passion alone,
The foundation we own;
And pardon we claim,
And eternal redemption in Jesus's name.

"Soon we go from grace to glory,
God's own hand shall lead us there;
Soon shall we rehearse the story
Of his gracious dealings here.

"Soon will end our earthly mission,
Soon will pass our pilgrim days,
Hope give place to full fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise."


Have you received the Holy Ghost?
Twill fit you for the fight,
'Twill make of you a mighty host
To put your foes to flight.
Have you received the holy power?
'Twill fall from Heaven on you,
From Jesus' throne this very hour,
'Twill make you brave and true.
0 now receive the holy fire!
'Twill burn away all dross,
All earthly, selfish, vain desire,
'Twill make you love the Cross.



Revive Thy work, 0 Lord!
And manifest Thy power;
Oh, come upon Thy Church, and give
A penitential shower!

Revive Thy work, O Lord!
Come now and answer prayer;
Oh, come in Holy Spirit power,
And save men everywhere!

Revive Thy work, O Lord!
And every soul inspire;
Oh, kindle in each heart, we pray,
The pentecostal fire!

Revive Thy work, O Lord!
And give abounding joy;
Oh, fill our hearts with perfect love;
And burn out all alloy!

Revive Thy work, 0 Lord!
And make Thy servants bold;
Convict of sin, and work once more
As in the days of old.

Revive Thy work, O Lord!
Fulfill Thy promise true;
Let Jesus Christ be glorified,
And great things for us do.

by Oswald J. Smith


Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here would I touch and handle things unseen,
Here grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace,
And all my weariness upon Thee lean.
Here would I feed upon the bread of God,
Here drink with Thee the royal wine of Heaven;
Here would I lay aside each earthly load,
Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.
Mine is the sin, but Thine is the righteousness;
Mine is the guilt, but Thine the cleansing blood;
Here is my robe, my refuge, and my peace ---
Thy blood, Thy righteousness, O Lord my God.

The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil, is seen:
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between;
The Lamb, with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand;
And glory --- glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom's face;
I will not gaze on glory,
But on my King of Grace ---
Not at the crown He gifteth,
But on his pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel's land.


Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress;
Midst flaming worlds in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.
This spotless robe the same appears
When ruin'd nature sinks in years;
No age can change its glorious hue,
The robe of Christ is ever new.

The blood has always precious been
'Tis precious now to me;
Through it alone my soul has rest,
From fear and doubt set free.
O wondrous is the crimson tide,
Which from my Saviour flowed!
And still in heaven my song shall be
'The precious, precious blood!'

Sing, O ye sinners bought with blood,
Hail the great Three in One!
Tell how secure the covenant stood
Ere time its race begun.
Ne'er had ye felt the guilt of sin,
Nor sweets of pardoning love,
Unless your worthless names had been
Enrolled to life above.
O what a sweet exalted song
Shall rend the vaulted skies,
When shouting grace, the blood-washed throng
Shall see the Top Stone rise.

He dies! the Friend of sinners dies!
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around!
A solemn darkness veils the skies,
A sudden trembling shakes the ground:
Come, saints, and with your tears bedew
The Sufferer, bruised beneath your load;
He poured out cries and tears for you,
He shed for you His precious blood.
Here's love and grief beyond degree:
The Lord of Glory dies for man!
But lo! what sudden joys I see:
Jesus, the dead, revives again!
The rising God forsakes the tomb;
The tomb in vain forbids His rise!
Cherubic legions guard Him home,
And shout Him welcome to the skies!
Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell
How high your great Deliverer reigns;
Sing how He spoiled the hosts of hell,
And led the monster death in chains.
Say, Live for ever, wondrous King!
Born to redeem, and strong to save!
Then ask the monster, Where's thy sting?
And, Where's thy victory, boasting grave?


What sacred fountain yonder springs
Up from the throne of God,
And all new covenant blessings brings?
'Tis Jesus' precious blood.
What mighty sum paid all my debt
When I a bondman stood,
And has my soul at freedom set?
'This Jesus' precious blood.
What stream is that which sweeps away
My sins just like a flood,
Nor lets one guilty blemish stay?
'This Jesus' precious blood.
What voice is that which speaks for me
In heaven's high court for good,
And from the curse has made me free?
'This Jesus' precious blood.
What theme, my soul, shall best employ
Thy harp before thy God,
And made all heaven to ring with joy?
'This Jesus' precious blood


Lo! He cometh! countless trumpets
Blow to raise the sleeping dead;
'Midst ten thousand saints and angels
See their great exalted Head.
Let the welcome summons spread!
Sow console our waiting spirit,
Hasten, Lord, the general doom!
And to dwell in heavenly mansions
Take Thy longing exiles home;
All creation
Travails, groans, and bids Thee come.


I do not know how Bethlehem's Babe
Could in the Godhead be;
I only know the manger Child
Has brought God's life to me.

Dearest of all the names above,
My Jesus, and my God,
Who can resist Thy heavenly love,
Or trifle with Thy blood?
'Tis by the merits of Thy death
The Father smiles again;
'Tis by Thine interceding breath
The Spirit dwells with men.
Till God in human flesh I see,
My thoughts no comfort find;
The Holy, Just, and Sacred Three
Are terrors to my mind.
But if Emmanuel's face appear,
My hope, my joy begins;
His name forbids my slavish fear,
His grace removes my sins.
While Jews on their own law rely,
And Greeks of wisdom boast,
I love the incarnate mystery,
And there I fix my trust.



Oh, eyes that are weary,
And hearts that are sore,
Look off unto Jesus,
And sorrow no more!
The light of His countenance
Shineth so bright,
That on earth, as in heaven,
There need be no night.
Looking off unto Jesus
My eyes cannot see
The troubles and dangers
That throng around me.
They cannot be blinded
With sorrowful tears.
They cannot be shadowed
With unbelief-fears.
Looking off unto Jesus.
My spirit is blest,—
In the world I have turmoil,
In Him I have rest.
The sea of my life
All about me may roar—
When I look unto Jesus
I hear it no more.
Looking off unto Jesus,
I go not astray;
My eyes are on Him.
And He shows me the way.
'The path may seem dark
As He leads me along,
But following Jesus
I cannot go wrong.
Looking off unto Jesus,
My heart cannot fear:
its trembling is still
When I see Jesus near:
I know that His power
My safeguard will be.
For, "Why are ye troubled?"
He saith unto me.
Looking off unto Jesus,
Oh, may I be found,
When the waters of Jordan
Encompass me round!
Let them bear me away
In His presence to he:
'Tis but seeing him nearer
Whom always I see.
Then, then shall I know
The full beauty and grace
Of Jesus, my Lord,
When I stand face to face:
I shall know how His love
Went before me each day,
And wonder that ever
My eyes turned away.



I’am going to leave all my sadness,
I’am going to change earth for heaven;
There, there all is peace, all is gladness,
There pureness and glory are given.
Friends, weep not in sorrow of spirit,
But joy that my time here is o’er;
I go, the good part to inherit,
Where sorrow and sin are no more.
The shadows of evening are fleeing,
Morn breaks from the city of light;
This moment day starts into being,
Eternity bursts on my sight:
The first-born redeemed from all trouble,
The lamb that was slain in the throng,
Their ar dour in praising redouble:
Breaks not on the ear the new song?
I’am going to tell their glad story,
To share in their transports of praise:
I’am going, in garments of glory,
My voice to unite with their lays.
Ye fetters corrupted, then leave me;
Thou body of sin, droop and die;
Pains of earth, cease ye ever to grieve me,
From you ?tis for ever I fly.


“ Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, flee to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace.”


“Be not weary,” toiling Christian,
Good the Master thou dost serve;
Let no disappointment move thee,
From thy service never swerve,
Sow in hope, nor cease thy sowing,
Lack not patience, faith, or prayer.
Seed-time pas seth,—harvest hastener,—
Precious sheaves thou then shalt bear.
“Be not weary,” praying Christian;
Open is Thy Father’s ear
To the fervent supplication,
And the agonizing prayer.
Prayer the Holy Ghost begetteth,
Be it words, or groans, or tears,
Is the prayer that’s always answered:
Banish then thy doubts and fears.
“Be not weary,” suffering Christian;
Scourged is each adopted child,
Else would grow, in sad profusion,
Nature’s fruit, perverse and wild:
Chastening’s needful for the spirit,
Though ‘tis painful for the flesh,
God designs a blessing for thee ;—
Let this thought thy soul refresh.
“Be not weary,” tempted Christian,
Sin can only lure on earth;
Faith is tried by sore temptation,
‘Tis the furnace proves its worth:
Bounds are set unto the tempter,
Which beyond he cannot go;
Battle on, on God relying,
Faith will overcome the foe.
“Be not weary,” weeping Christian,
Tears endure but for the night;
Joy, deep joy, thy spirit greeting,
Will return with morning’s light.
Every tear thou shedd’st is numbered
In the register above;
Heaven is tearless, sweet the prospect:—
Sighless, tearless land of love!
“Be not weary,” hoping Christian;
Though the vision tarry long,
Hope will bring the blessing nearer,
Change thy sorrow into song;
Naught shall press thy spirit downwards
If thy hopes all brightly shine:
Hold thy hope, what’er thou loosest,—
Living, precious hopes are thine!
“Be not weary,” troubled Christian,
Rest remains for thee on high;
Dwell upon the untold glory
Of thy future home of joy:
There, nor sin, nor sorrow enters,—
There thy soul, attuned to praise,
Shall, in strains of heavenly fullness,
Songs of happy triumph raise.
“Be not weary,” loving Christian,
In this heavenly grace abound;
Jesus, well thou know est, loved thee,
Though in mad rebellion found:
Drink, drink deeply of His spirit,—
Jesus loves both great and small;
Nature loves but what is lovely,—
Grace embrace one and all.
Christian, thus in grace unwearied
Pass thy sojourn here below,
Spurn lukewarmness, let thy bosom
Ever with true fervor glow!
Look to Christ, thy bright exemplar,
Copy Him in all His ways,
Let thy life and conversation
Tell to thy Redeemer’s praise.



For ever here my rest shall be,
Close to Thy bleeding side:
This is my hope, and all my plea,—
For me the Saviour died.
My dying Saviour and my Cod,
Fountain for guilt and sin,
Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood,
And cleanse and keep me clean.
Wash me and make me thus Thine own,
Wash me, and mine Thou art;
Wash me, hut not my feet alone,—
My hands, my head, my heart.
The atonement of Thy blood apply,
Till faith to sight improve;
Till hope shall end in perfect joy,
And all my soul be love.



TIMES are changing, days are flying,
Years are quickly past and gone,
While the wildly mingled murmur
Of life’s busy mart goes on;
Sounds of tumult, sounds of triumph,
Marriage chimes and passing-bell,
Yet through all one key-note sounding,
Angels’ watchword,—“It is well.”
We may hear it through the rushing
Of the midnight tempest’s wave;
We may hear it through the weeping
Round the newly-covered grave;
In the dreary house of mourning,
In the darkened room of pain,
If we listen meekly, rightly,
We may catch that soothing strain.
For Thine arm Thou hast not shortened,
Nor hast turned away Thine ear,
Gentle Saviour, ever ready
Thy poor suppliant’s prayer to hear:
Show us light, still surely resting
Upon all Thy darkest ways;
Give us faith, still surely trusting
Through the sad and evil days.
So ‘twill be, while years are fleeting,
Though our joys are with them gone,
In Thy changeless love rejoicing,
We shall journey calmly on;
Till at last, life’s sorrows over,
All the tale of grace we tell,
In the heavenly chorus joining,
“Lord, Thou hast done all things well.”



"Come, let us join our friends above,
Who have obtained the prize,
And on the eagle-wings of love
To joys celestial rise!
"Let all the saints terrestrial sing,
With those to glory gone;
For all the servants of our King,
In earth and heaven, are one.
"The saints on earth, and those above,
But one communion make;
Joined to the Lord in bonds of love,
All of His grace partake.
"One family we dwell in Him;
One Church above, beneath;
Though now divided by the stream,
—The narrow stream of death.
"One army of the living God,
To His command we bow:
Part of His host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now.
" Our spirits too shall quickly join,
Like theirs with glory crowned;
And shout to see our Captain's Sign,
To hear His trumpet sound."


Read the motto over the door of the Gospel
Refuge: "Neither is there salvation in any other: for
there is no other NAME given under heaven by which
the sinner can be saved, but the NAME of JESUS."


Jesus, my Refuge! look on me,
When weak and weary, worn, oppressed;
I cast my every care on Thee—
You are my REST.
Jesus, my Refuge! guide my way,
Dispel the gloomy shades of night,
Oh, please shine forth with cheering ray!
You are my Light.
Jesus, my Refuge! storms may rise,
Affliction sweep with tempest-shock,
My spirit to Your shelter flies—
You are my ROCK.
Jesus, my Refuge! legion-foes
May seek to drive me from the field,
But in Your strength I shall repose—
You are my SHIELD.
Jesus, my Refuge! You in store
Have happiness without alloy,
Pleasures unmingled, evermore—
You are my JOY.
Jesus, my Refuge! on the brink
Of Jordan, in my latest strife,
You will not suffer me to sink—
You are my LIFE.
Jesus, my Refuge! oh, supply
My every want. Whatever befall;
Through life, in death, eternally,
You are my ALL!


I sin in every breath I draw,
Nor do Thy will, nor keep Thy law
On earth, as angels do above:
But still the fountain open stands,
Washes my feet, my heart, my hands,
Till I am perfected in love.


Oh! that I could repent,
With all my idols part,
And to Thy gracious eyes present
A humble, contrite heart.
A heart with grief oppressed,
For having grieved my God,
A troubled heart that cannot rest,
Till sprinkled with Thy blood.
Jesus, on me bestow
The penitent desire;
With true sincerity of woe
My aching breast inspire.
With softening pity look,
And melt my hardness down;
Strike with Thy love’s resistless stroke,
And break this heart of stone!
-Charles Wesley, 1749


AWAKE, my soul, in joyful lays, And sing thy great Redeemer’s praise;
He justly claims a song from me; His loving-kindness, O how free!
He saw me ruined in the fall, Yet loved me notwithstanding all;
He saved me from my lost estate; His loving-kindness, O how great!
Though numerous hosts of mighty foes, Though earth and hell my way oppose,
He safely leads my soul along; His loving-kindness, O how strong!
Often I feel my sinful heart Prone from my Saviour to depart;
But though I have him oft forgot, His loving-kindness changes not!
Soon shall I pass the gloomy vale; Soon all my mortal powers must fail;
O may my last expiring breath His loving-kindness sing in death!
Then let me mount and soar away To the bright world of endless day,
And sing with rapture and surprise, His loving-kindness in the skies.


"What is Life?-’tis sitting,
Jesus, at Your feet,
All things gladly quitting
For that favored seat:
Where, in sacred union,
Earth and Heaven meet!
"What is Death?-’tis springing,
Savior, to Your breast;
’Tis the freed bird winging
To her glory-nest:
Life and Death with Jesus-
Heritage how blest!"


"O Lord! how happy is the time,
When in Your love I rest,
When from my weariness I climb,
Even to Your tender breast.
The night of sorrow ends there,
Your rays outshine the sun.
And in Your pardon, and Your care,
The heaven of heavens is won.
"Let the world call itself my foe,
Or let the world allure,
I care not for the world--I go
To this tried Friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent
Upon life's wildest sea,
My little bark is confident,
Because it holds by Thee.
"When the law threatens endless death,
Upon the dreadful hill,
Immediately from its consuming breath
My soul mounts higher still;
She haste's to Jesus, wounded, slain,
And finds in Him her home,
Whence she shall not go forth again,
And here no death can come.
"I do not fear the wilderness,
Where You have been before;
No! rather would I daily press
After You! near You, more!
You are my strength, on You I lean,
My heart You make sing,
And to Your pastures green at length
Your chosen flock will bring.
"And if the gate that opens there
Be closed to other men,
It is not closed to those who share
The heart of Jesus then.
That is not losing much of life,
Which is not losing Thee,
Who are as present in the strife,
As in the victory!
"Therefore, how happy is the time,
When in Your love I rest,
When from my weariness I climb,
Even to Your tender breast.
The night of sorrow ends there,
Your rays outshine the sun,
And in Your pardon and Your care,
The heaven of heavens is won!"
--From the German of Dresler.


"We are ONE in Christ our Lord,
Time has no chain to bind us,
We fear not death's sharp sword,
And the grave we leave behind us."
"We are ONE in faith below,
In hope and consolation,
Though garb and colors show
Shadows of variation."
"We are ONE in love divine,
Each stony heart renewing,
Let it reflected shine,
Christians, your hearts imbuing."
"We are ONE from Christ's last prayer,
Whom the Father hears ever,
And how can we despair,
Who from his love can sever?"
"We are ONE in homes on high,
Which Jesus is preparing,
For the blessed ones who die,
One cross, one glory sharing."
"We are ONE in Christ our Lord,
O You, of peace the Giver
From every strife abhorred
Your family deliver."
"We are ONE in Christ our Lord,
He speaks who knows no turning,
And we stay upon his word,
Its light afar discerning."
"We are ONE in Christ our Lord,
Though earth and hell endeavor
To change his mighty word,
Its truth abides ever."


"Jesus, let Your pitying eye
Call back a wandering sheep;
False to You like Peter, I
Would gladly like Peter weep.
Let me be by grace restored;
On me be all patience shown;
Turn and look upon me, Lord,
And break this heart of stone.
"Look as when Your grace beheld
The harlot in distress,
Dried her tears, her pardon sealed,
And bade her go in peace;
"Foul, like her, and self-abhorred,
I at Your feet for mercy groan:
Turn and look upon me, Lord,
And break this heart of stone.
"Look as when, condemned for them,
You did Your followers see;
‘Daughters of Jerusalem!
Weep for yourselves, not me.’
And am I by my God deplored,
And shall I not myself bemoan?
Turn and look upon me, Lord,
And break this heart of stone.
"Look as when Your languid eye
Was closed that we might live:
‘Father,’ (at the point to die
My Savior cried,) ‘forgive;’
Surely with that dying word,
He turns, and looks, and cries, ‘Tis done!’
O my gracious, bleeding Lord,
You break my heart of stone!"


"Welcome, weeping penitent;
Grace has made your heart relent:
Welcome, long-estranged child;
God in Christ is reconciled.
"Welcome to the cleansing fount,
Springing from the sacred mount;
Welcome to the feast divine,
Bread of life, and living wine.
"Oh, the virtue of that price,
That redeeming sacrifice!
Come, you bought, but not with gold,
Welcome to the sacred fold."


“I saw an aged Pilgrim,
Whose toilsome march was o’er,
With slow and painful footstep
Approaching Jordan’s shore:
He first his dusty vestment
And sandals cast aside,
Then, with an air of transport,
Enter’d the swelling tide.
“I thought to see him shudder,
As cold the waters rose,
And fear’d lest o’er him, surging,
The murky stream should close;
But calmly and unshrinking,
The billowy path he trod,
And cheer’d with Jesus’ presence,
Pass’d o’er the raging flood.
“On yonder shore to greet him,
I saw a shining throng;
Some just begun their praising,
Some had been praising long;
With joy they bade him welcome,
And struck their harps again,
While through the heavenly arches
Peal’d the triumphal strain.
24 Help Heavenward
“Now in a robe of glory,
And with a starry crown,
I see the weary Pilgrim
With Kings and Priests sit down;
With Prophets, Patriarchs, Martyrs,
And Saints, a countless throng,
He chants his great deliverance,
In never-ceasing song.”


"My God, my Father, while I stray
Far from my home on life's rough way
Oh teach me from my heart to say,
Your will be done."
"Though dark my path, or sad my lot,
Let me be still and murmur not,
But breathe the prayer, divinely taught,
Your will be done."
"Should pining sickness waste away
My life in premature decay,
May I with meek submission say,
Your will be done."
"If You should call me to resign
What most I prize- it never was mine,
I only yield You what was Thine.
Your will be done."
"Control my will from day to day,
Blend it with Yours, and take away
All that now makes it hard to say,
Your will be done."
"And when on earth I breathe no more
The prayer often mixed with tears before,
I'll sing upon a happier


"Death comes to take me where I long to be;
One pang, and brighter blooms the immortal flower.
Death comes to lead me from mortality,
To lands which know not one unhappy hour;
I have a hope, a faith--from sorrow here
I'm led by death away--why should I start or fear?
"A change from woe to joy--from earth to heaven--
Death gives me this--it leads me calmly where
The smile that long ago from mine were riven
May meet again! Death answers many a prayer.
Bright day, shine on! be glad--days brighter far
Are stretched before my eyes than those of mortals are!
"Death comes, but with it comes the Lord of death,
The Christ who gave His life a sacrifice for me;
And I with joy will yield my parting breath,
Wrapped in the splendor of the home I then shall see–
And thus from GRACE to GLORY I shall go,
Have passed from earth, with all its scenes of weariness and woe."


Not all the blood of beasts
On Jewish altars slain
Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away the stain.
But Christ, the heavenly Lamb
Takes all our sins away,
A sacrifice of nobler name
And richer blood than they

From whence this fear and unbelief?
Hath not the Father put to grief
His spotless Son for me?
And will the righteous Judge of men
Condemn me for that debt of sin
Which, Lord! was charged on Thee?
Complete atonement thou hast made,
And to the utmost farthing paid,
Whatever Thy people owed;
How then can wrath on me take place,

If sheltered in Thy righteousness,
And sprinkled with Thy blood?
If Thou hast my discharge procured,
And freely in my room, endured
The whole of wrath Divine;
Payment cannot twice demand---
First, at my bleeding surety's hand,
And then again at mine.
Turn then, my soul, unto thy rest!
The merits of thy great High Priest
Have bought thy liberty;
Trust in His efficacious blood,
Nor fear thy banishment from God,
Since Jesus died for thee.

When the Atonement story first began
A lamb was sacrificed for every MAN.
And then when Israel was in Pharaoh's land,
This sacrifice could for a HOUSEHOLD stand.
Later, a Lamb at the Atonement feast
Was offered for the NATION by the priest.
But last, on Calvary's Hill, the Lamb of God
Shed for a sinning world His precious Blood.
A Lamb before the world's foundation slain,
And in the farthest future just the same!
For in the Revelation we are shown
A Lamb, "that had been slain," amidst the Throne.
"A Lamb," the pivot of earth's history ---
God's great, impenetrable mystery.
"Thou has redeemed us by Thy precious Blood,
"And made us kings and priests unto our God."
"Worthy is the Lamb that once was slain" will be
Our theme of praise throughout eternity.

The blood of God outpoured upon the tree!
So reads the Book. O mind, receive the thought,
Nor helpless murmur thou hast vainly sought
Thought-room within thee for such mystery.
Thou foolish mindling! Do' st thou hope to see
Un dazed, untottering, all that God hath wrought?
Before His mighty "shall," thy little "ought"

Be shamed to silence and humility!
Come mindling, I will show thee what 'were meet
That thou should' st shrink from marveling, and flee
As unbelievable, --- nay, wonderingly,
With dazed, but still with faithful praises, greet:
Draw near and listen to this sweetest sweet, ---
Thy God, O mindling, shed His blood for thee!

Stretched on the cross, the Saviour dies,
Hark! His expiring groans arise!
See from His hands, His feet, His side,
Runs down the sacred crimson tide!
But life attends the deathful sound,
And flows from every bleeding wound;
The vital stream, how free it flows,
To save and cleanse His rebel foes!

Dear dying Lamb! Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more



"I am the vine, ye are the branches."--John 15:5
"Tis only a little Branch,
A thing so fragile and weak,
But that little Branch hath a message true
To give, could it only speak.

"I'm only a little Branch,
I live by a life not mine,
For the sap that flows through my tendrils small
Is the life-blood of the Vine.

"No power indeed have I
The fruit of myself to bear,
But since I'm part of the living Vine,
Its fruitfulness I share.

"Dost thou ask how I abide?
How this life I can maintain?--
I am bound to the Vine by life's strong band,
And I only need remain.

"Where first my life was given,
In the spot where I am set,
Up borne and upheld as the days go by,
By the stem which bears me yet.

"I fear not the days to come,
I dwell not upon the past,
As moment by moment I draw a life,
Which for evermore shall last.

"I bask in the sun's bright beams,
Which with sweetness fills my fruit,
Yet I own not the clusters hanging there,
For they all come from the root."

A life which is not my own,
But another's life in me:
This, this is the message the Branch would speak,
A message to thee and me.

Oh, struggle not to "abide,"
Nor labor to "bring forth fruit,"
But let Jesus unite thee to Himself,
As the Vine Branch to the root.

So simple, so deep, so strong
That union with Him shall be:
His life shall forever replace thine own,
And His love shall flow through thee.

For His Spirit's fruit is love,
And love shall thy life become,
And for evermore on His heart of love
Thy spirit shall have her home.

Freda Hanbury


"Go, search the Scriptures," saith our Lord,
"They testify of Me";
"Tis truth's eternal, great record,
From every error free.

There my eternal Godhead shines
With bright, refulgent rays;
There beam Jehovah"s great designs,
From everlasting days.

There the great gospel scheme behold,
Chief of the works of God,
Replete with grace and love untold,
And pardon, bought with blood.

There's armour for the trying day,
Both shield and helmet too;
And grace, the fainting soul to stay,
And always something new.

There's balm to heal the wounds of sin,
On life's fair tree it grows;
And blood to wash your garments in,
From Jesus' side it flows."

O may the Spirit's influence sweet
Shine on the glorious whole,
Its precepts guide my roving feet,
And promise feast my soul.

Let Revelation's glories shine,
And spread from sea to sea;
Till reason stoops to faith divine,
And owns her sovereign sway.



Prune thou thy words; the thoughts control
  That o'er thee swell and throng:—
They will condense within thy soul,
  And change to purpose strong.

But he who lets his feelings run
  In soft luxurious flow,
Shrinks when hard service must be done,
  And faints at every woe.

Faith's meanest deed more favor bears,
  Where hearts and wills are weigh 'd,
Than brightest transports, choicest prayers,
  Which bloom their hour, and fade.

—J. H. Newman



My mind to me a kingdom is;
  Such perfect joy therein I find,
As far exceeds all earthly bliss
  That world affords, or grows by kind:
Though much I want what most men have,
Yet doth my mind forbid me crave.

Content I live—this is my stay;
  I seek no more than may suffice:
I press to bear no haughty sway;
   Look—what I lack, my mind supplies!
Lo! thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

I see how plenty surfeits oft,
   And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see how those that sit aloft
   Mishap doth threaten most of all;
These get with toil, and keep with fear:
Such cares my mind could never bear.

I laugh not at another's loss;
   I grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly wave my mind can toss;
   I brook that is another's pain.
I fear no foe: I scorn no friend:
I dread no death: I fear no end.

Some have too much, yet still they crave;
   I little have, yet seek no more:
They are but poor, though much they have,
   And I am rich, with little store.
They poor, I rich: they beg, I give:
They lack, I lend: they pine, I live.

I wish but what I have at will:
   I wander not to seek for more:
I like the plain; I climb no hill:
   In greatest storm I sit on shore,
And laugh at those that toil in vain,
To get what must be lost again.
—This is my choice; for why?—I find
No wealth is like a quiet mind.




Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell?
I humbly crave,
    Let me once know.
  I sought thee in a secret cave,
    And ask' d, if Peace were there?
A hollow wind did seem to answer, "No:—
    Go seek elsewhere."

I did; and going did a rainbow note:
    Surely, thought I,
  This is the lace of Peace's coat:
    I will search out the matter.
But while I look'd, the clouds immediately
    Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy
    A gallant flower,
  The Crown Imperial: Sure, said I,
    Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devour
    What show'd so well.

At length I met a reverend good old man:
    Whom when for Peace
  I did demand, he thus began:
    "There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
    Of flock and fold.

"He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
    His life from foes.
  But after death, out of his grave
    There sprang twelve stalks of wheat:
Which many wondering at, got some of those
    To plant and set.

"It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse
    Through all the earth:
  For they that taste it do rehearse,
    That virtue lies therein;
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
  By flight of sin.

"Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
    And grows for you;
  Make bread of it:—and that repose
    And peace, which everywhere
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
    Is only there."

—G. Herber



To God, ye choir above, begin
  A hymn so loud and strong
That all the universe may hear
  And join the grateful song.

Praise Him, thou sun, Who dwells unseen
  Amidst transcendent light,
Where thy refulgent orb would seem
  A spot, as dark as night.

Thou silver moon, 'ye host of stars,
  The universal song
Through the serene and silent night
  To listening worlds prolong.

Sing Him, ye distant worlds and suns,
  From whence no traveling ray
Hath yet to us, through ages past,
  Had time to make its way.

Assist, ye raging storms, and bear
  On rapid wings His praise,
From north to south, from east to west,
  Through heaven, and earth, and seas.

Exert your voice, ye furious fires
  That rend the watery cloud,
And thunder to this nether world
  Your Maker's words aloud.

Ye works of God, that dwell unknown
  Beneath the rolling main;
Ye birds, that sing among the groves,
  And sweep the azure plain;

Ye stately hills, that rear your heads,
  And towering pierce the sky;
Ye clouds, that with an awful pace
  Majestic roll on high;

Ye insects small, to which one leaf
  Within its narrow sides
A vast extended world displays,
  And spacious realms provides;

Ye race, still less than these, with which
  The stagnant water teems,
To which one drop, however small,
  A boundless ocean seems;

Whatever ye are, where'er ye dwell,
  Ye creatures great or small,
Adore the wisdom, praise the power,
  That made and governs all.

—P. Skelton



How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
  How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
  Their help, Omnipotence.

In foreign realms, and lands remote,
  Supported by Thy care,
Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
  And breathed in tainted air.

Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
  Made every region please;
The hoary Alpine hills it warm'd,
  And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.

Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
  How, with affrighted eyes,
Thou saw'st the wide-extended deep
  In all its horrors rise.

Confusion dwelt in every face,
  And fear in every heart;
When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,
  O'ercame the pilot's art.

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
  Thy mercy set me free;
Whilst, in the confidence of prayer,
  My soul took hold on Thee.

For though in dreadful whirls we hung
  High on the broken wave,
I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
  Nor impotent to save.

—The storm was laid; the winds retired,
  Obedient to Thy will;
The sea that roar'd at Thy command,
  At Thy command was still.

—J. Addison



The fairest action of our human life
  Is scorning to revenge an injury:
For who forgives without a further strife
  His adversary's heart to him doth tie:
And 'tis a firmer conquest truly said
  To win the heart, than overthrow the head.

If we a worthy enemy do find,
  To yield to worth, it must be nobly done:—
But if of baser metal be his mind,
  In base revenge there is no honor won.
Who would a worthy courage overthrow?
  And who would wrestle with a worthless foe?

We say our hearts are great, and cannot yield;
  Because they cannot yield, it proves them poor:
Great hearts are task'd beyond their power but seld:
  The weakest lion will the loudest roar.
Truth's school for certain does this same allow,
  High-heartedness doth sometimes teach to bow.

—Lady E. Carew



How happy is he born and taught
  That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
  And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are,
  Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Not tied unto the world with care
  Of public fame, or private breath;

Who envies none that chance doth raise
  Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
  Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

Who hath his life from rumors freed;
  Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
  Nor ruin make accusers great;

Who God doth late and early pray
  More of His grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
  With a well-chosen book or friend;

—This man is freed from servile bands
  Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
  And having nothing, yet hath all.

—Sir H. Wotton



Lord, thou hast given me a cell,
  Wherein to dwell;
A little house, whose humble roof
  Is weather-proof;
Under the spars of which I lie
  Both soft and dry;
Where thou, my chamber for to ward,
  Hast set a guard
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
  Me, while I sleep.
Low is my porch, as is my fate:
  Both void of state;
And yet the threshold of my door
  Is worn by th' poor,
Who thither come, and freely get
  Good words, or meat.
Like as my parlor, so my hall
   And kitchen's small;
A little buttery, and therein
   A little bin,
Which keeps my little loaf of bread
   Unchipt, unflead;
Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
   Make me a fire,
Close by whose living coal I sit,
   And glow like it.
Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
   The pulse is thine,
And all those other bits that be
   There placed by thee;
The worts, the purslain, and the mess
   Of water-cress,
Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;
   And my content
Makes those, and my beloved beet,
   To be more sweet.
'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth
   With guiltless mirth,
And giv'st me wassail-bowls to drink,
   Spiced to the brink.
Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
   That soils my land,
And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,
   Twice ten for one;
Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
  Her egg each day;
Besides my healthful ewes to bear
  Me twins each year;
The while the conduits of my kine
  Run cream, for wine:
All these, and better, thou dost send
  Me—to this end,
That I should render, for my part,
  A thankful heart.

—R. Herrick



They are all gone into the world of light!
  And I alone sit lingering here!
Their very memory is fair and bright,
  And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast
  Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest
  After the Sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,
  Whose light doth trample on my days;
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
  Mere glimmerings and decays.

O holy hope! and high humility!
  High as the Heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have show'd them me,
  To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous Death; the jewel of the just!
  Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
  Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledged birdes nest may know
  At first sight if the bird be flown;
But what fair dell or grove he sings in now,
  That is to him unknown.

And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams
  Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
  And into glory peep.

—H. Vaughan



"Awake, awake, my little boy!
Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
O wake! thy father does thee keep."

—"O what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there
Among the lilies by waters fair.

"Among the lambs, clothed in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight:
I wept for joy; like a dove I mourn:—
O when shall I again return!"

—"Dear child! I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams:—
But, though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side."

—"Father, O father! what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?—
The Land of Dreams is better far,
Above the light of the morning star."

—W. Blake



Sweet is the dew that falls betimes,
And drops upon the leafy limes;
  Sweet Hermon's fragrant air:
Sweet is the lily's silver bell,
And sweet the wakeful tapers smell
  That watch for early prayer.

Sweet the young nurse, with love intense,
Which smiles o'er sleeping innocence;
  Sweet when the lost arrive;
Sweet the musician's ardor beats,
While his vague mind's in quest of sweets,
  The choicest flowers to hive.

Strong is the horse upon his speed;
Strong in pursuit the rapid glede,
  Which makes at once his game:
Strong the tall ostrich on the ground;
Strong through the turbulent profound
  Shoots xiphias to his aim.

Strong is the lion—like a coal
His eyeball—like a bastion's mole
  His chest against the foes:
Strong the gier-eagle on his sail;
Strong against tide the enormous whale
  Emerges as he goes.

But stronger still, in earth and air,
And in sea, the man of prayer,
  And far beneath the tide:
And in the seat to Faith assign'd,
Where ask is, have; where seek is, find;
  Where knock is, open wide.

—C. Smart

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