Christian Poems and Hymns: Collection 1
compiled by Stephen Ross

She could not give her children gold,
So she gave them faith to have and hold.

She could not give them royal birth...
A name renowned throughout the earth.
But she gave them seeds and garden spot
And shade trees when the sun was hot.

She could not give a silver spoon
Or servants waiting night and noon.
She gave them love and a listening ear
And told them God was always near.

She could not give them ocean trips
Aboard majestic sailing ships.
But she gave them books and quiet time,
Adventures found in prose and rhyme.

She could not give them worldly things
But what she gave was fit for kings.
For with her faith and books and sod,
She made each child aware of God.
  —attributed to Alice Leedy Mason

I wake in the morning with thoughts of His love
Who is living for me in the glory above,
Ev'ry minute expecting He'll call me away,
And that keeps me bright all the rest of the day.

But the moments speed forward, and on comes the noon
Yet still I am singing: "He'll come very soon;"
And thus I am watching from morning till night
And pluming my wings to be ready for flight.

There's a Man in the glory I know very well
I have known Him for years, and His goodness can tell:
One day in His mercy He knock'd at my door,
And seeking admission, knock'd many times o'er.

But when I went to Him, and stood face to face,
And listen'd awhile to His story of grace,
How He suffer' d for sinners, and put away sin,
I heartily, thankfully welcomed Him in.

We have lived on together a number of years,
And that's why I neither have doubtings nor fears,
For my sins are all hid in the depths of the sea,
They were carried down there by the Man on the tree.

I am often surprised why the lip should be curl'd,
When I speak of my Lord to the man of the world;
And notice with sorrow his look of disdain,
When I tell him that Jesus is coming again.

He seems so content with his houses and gold,
While despising the ark, like the people of old,
And yet at His coming I'm sure he would flee,
Like the man in the garden, who ate of the tree.

I cannot but think it is foolish of souls
To put all their money "in bags which have holes",
To find in the day that is coming apace,
How lightly they valued the "riches of grace".

As fond as I am of His work in the field,
I would let go the plough, I would lay down the shield:
The weapons of service I'd put on the shelf,
And the sword in its scabbard, to be with Himself.

But I'll work on with pleasure, while keeping my eyes
On the end of the field where standeth the prize.
I would work for His glory, that when we shall meet
I may have a large sheaf to lay down at His feet;

That He too, with pleasure His fruit may review:
Is the Man in the glory a stranger to you?
A stranger to Jesus, what, do you know
He is washing poor sinners much whiter than snow?

Have you lived in a land where the Bible's unknown,
That you don't know the Man who is now on the throne?
Ah, did you but know half His beauty and power
You would not be a stranger another half–hour.

I have known Him so long that I'm able to say,
The very worst sinner He'll not turn away.
The question of sin, I adoringly see,
The Man in the glory has settled for me.

And as to my footsteps whatever the scene,
The Man in the glory is keeping me clean;
And therefore I'm singing from morning till night
The Man in the glory is all my delight.
  —George Cutting (1843-1934)

Christ my Saviour, Christ my Friend
Christ my Treasure without end;
Christ when waves of sorrow roll,
Christ the Comfort of my soul.

Christ when all around should fail,
Christ when enemies prevail:
Christ when false accusers rise,
Christ my Solace in the skies.

Christ when days are dark and drear,
Christ when all around is clear;
Christ when all the earth is gone,
Christ my Portion on the throne.

Christ at home, and Christ abroad,
Christ my Company on the road;.
Christ in sickness, Christ in health,
Christ in poverty and wealth.

Christ who once on earth has trod,
Christ the blessed "Son of God"
Christ for time and Christ for aye,
Christ for all eternity.
  —Edwin B. Hartt (1861-1929)

He leadeth me! O blessed thought!
O words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
Still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me.

Chorus:
He leadeth me, He leadeth me,
By His own hand He leadeth me:
His faithful follower I would be,
For by His hand He leadeth me.

Sometimes 'mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
By waters still, o'er troubled sea,
Still 'tis His hand that leadeth me!

Lord, I would clasp thy hand in mine,
Nor ever murmur nor repine,
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since 'tis my God that leadeth me!
  —Joseph H. Gilmore (1834-1918)

O spotless Lamb of God, in Thee
  The Father's holiness we see;
And with delight Thy children trace,
  In Thee, His wondrous love and grace.

For Thou didst leave Thy throne above
  To teach us that our God is Love;
And now we see His glory shine
  In every word and deed of Thine.

When we behold Thee, Lamb of God,
 Beneath our sin's tremendous load,
Expiring on the accursèd tree
  How great our guilt with grief we see.

There we with joy Thy grace behold;
  Its height and depth can ne'er be told!
It bursts our chains and sets us free,
  And sweetly draws our souls to Thee.
  —Mary J. Walker

Jesus, my strength, my hope,
On thee I cast my care,
With humble confidence look up,
And know thou hearest prayer.
Give me on thee to wait,
Till I can all things do,
On thee, almighty to create,
Almighty to renew.

I want a sober mind,
A self-renouncing will,
That tramples down and casts behind
The baits of pleasing ill;
A soul inured to pain,
To hardship, grief and loss,
Bold to take up, firm to sustain,
The consecrated cross.

I want a godly fear,
A quick-discerning eye,
That looks to thee when sin is near,
And sees the tempter fly;
A spirit still prepared
And armed with jealous care,
For ever standing on its guard,
And watching unto prayer.

I rest upon thy word;
The promise is for me;
My succour and salvation, Lord,
Shall surely come from thee.
But let me still abide,
Nor from my hope remove,
Till thou my patient spirit guide
Into thy perfect love.
  —Charles Wesley (1707-1788)

Hail, my ever blessed Jesus!
Only Thee I wish to sing;
To my soul Thy Name is precious,
Thou my Prophet, Priest and King.
O what mercy flows from heaven!
O what joy and happiness!
Love I much? I'm much forgiven;
I'm a miracle of grace.

Once with Adam's race in ruin,
Unconcerned in sin I lay;
Swift destruction still pursuing,
Till my Saviour passed that way.
Witness, all ye hosts of heaven,
My Redeemer's tenderness!
Love I much? I'm much forgiven,
I'm a miracle of grace.

Shout, ye bright angelic choir!
Praise the Lamb enthroned above;
While, astonished, I admire
God's free grace and boundless love.
That blest moment I received Him,
Filled my soul with joy and peace;
Love I much? I'm much forgiven,
I'm a miracle of grace.
  —John Wingrove (1720-1793)

Buried with Christ and raised with Him too,
  What is there left for me to do?
Simply to cease from struggling and strife,
  Simply to walk in newness of life.

Refrain:
Buried with Christ and dead unto sin;
  Dying but living, Jesus within;
Ruling and reigning day after day,
  Guiding and keeping all of the way.

Risen with Christ my glorious Head,
  Holiness now the pathway I tread;
Beautiful thought from walking therein,
  He that is dead is freed from all sin.

Living with Christ, who dieth no more,
  Following Christ, who goeth before;
Not under law, I'm now under grace,
  Sin is dethroned, and Christ takes its place.
  —Thomas Ryder (19th century)

There is no name so sweet on earth,
  No name so sweet in heaven,
The name before His wondrous birth
  To Christ the Saviour given.

O Jesus, by Thy matchless name,
  Thy grace shall fail us never;
To-day as yesterday the same,
  We'll bless Thy name forever.

For there's no name ear ever heard
  So dear, so sweet as Jesus.
We love to sing of Christ our King
  And hail Him, blessed Jesus.
  —George W. Bethune (1805-1862)

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God;
All the vain things that charm me most—
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See, from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small:
Love so amazing, so Divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
  —by Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

Day by day and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what he deems best–
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Ev'ry day the Lord Himself is near me,
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He gladly bears and cheers me,
He whose name is Counselor and Pow'r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself he laid:
"As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,"
This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then in ev'ry tribulation
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith's sweet consolation
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when, toil and trouble meeting,
E'er to take, as from a father's hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till I reach the promised land.
  —Lina Sandell Berg (1832-1903);
trans. by Andrew L. Skoog

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
And to take Him at His word;
Just to rest upon His promise,
And to know, "Thus saith the Lord."

Refrain:
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I've proved him o'er and o'er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more!

O how sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to trust His cleansing blood;
And in simple faith to plunge me
'Neath the healing, cleansing flood!

Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just from sin and self to cease;
Lust from Jesus simply taking
Life and rest, and joy and peace.

I'm so glad I learned to trust Thee,
Precious Jesus, Saviour, friend;
And I know that Thou art with me;
Wilt be with me to the end.
  —Louisa M. R. Stead (1850-1917?)

The Shield from every dart;
The Balm for every smart;
The Sharer of each load;
Companion on the road.

The Door into the fold;
The Anchor that will hold;
The Shepherd of the sheep;
The Guardian of my sleep.

The Friend with Whom I talk;
The Way by which I walk;
The Light to show the way;
The Strength for every day.

The Source of my delight;
The Song to cheer the night;
The Thought that fills my mind;
The Best of All to find—is Jesus!
  —Anonymous

Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound. Romans 5:20

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16

For He hath made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. 2 Corinthians 5:21

Who was delivered for our offenses, and was raised again for our justification. Romans 4:25

Where sin abounded, grace much more
  Abounded by God's love.
When Jesus for our sakes came down,
  And left the throne above.

The rich One from the Glory bright,
  For our sakes, was made poor,
And untold pain and anguish
  On the cross He did endure.

They mocked Him, and derided Him,
  With hatred in their face,
But in return, He offers them
  His wondrous, matchless grace.

They scourged Him, and they buffeted,
  With cruel, heavy blow,
But Jesus answered not a word,
  Because He loved them so.

The very hatred in man's heart,
  Which nailed Him to the cross,
He used to bless His enemies.
  To save their souls from loss.

The very spear that pierced His side,
  By cruel, hateful man,
Brought forth the blood to cleanse their souls,
  By God's redemptive plan.

When awful hatred—matchless love,—
  At Calv'ry's cross did meet,
The Saviour wrought a finished work,
  Atonement was complete.

O will you not accept this One,
  Who suffered thus for thee?
Then peace, and rest, and joy are thine,
  Throughout eternity.
  —Author unknown

God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life. John 3:36

Take my life and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in endless praise;
Take my hands and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice and let me sing,
Always, only, for my King.
Take my lips and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold;
Not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect and use
Every power as Thou shalt choose.

Take my will and make it Thine;
It shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure-store.
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee.
  —Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879)

My Father's way may twist and turn,
My heart may throb and ache,
But in my soul I'm glad to know,
He maketh no mistake.

My cherished plans may go astray,
My hopes may fade away,
But still I'll trust my Lord to lead,
For He doth know the way.

Tho' night be dark and it may seem
That day will never break,
I'll pin my faith, my all, in Him,
He maketh no mistake.

There's so much now I cannot see,
My eyesight far too dim,
But come what may,
I'll simply trust and leave it all to Him.

For by and by the mist will lift,
And plain it all He'll make,
Through all the way, tho' dark to me,
He made not one mistake.
  —A. M. Overton, 1932

What shall I learn from God
  through fiery trials today,
As side by side He walks with me
  along life's rugged way?
He never fails—not even
  in the darkest hour.
I know my Lord is nigh—
  I feel His power.

Today I thank Him
  for His love and grace.
In perfect peace, the future
  I can face.
He knows of each new need
  before "The Day"
And lovingly my Saviour
  plans my earthly way.

As day by day I feed
  upon God's word,
I learn my step is "ordered
  of the Lord".
So also every "stop" is just
  another step to test,
And prove to me one fact—
  God's way is always best.

I only want whatever
  God has planned.
So all is well, He holds me
  in His hand.
So I can trust Him now
  to lead aright,
As I walk on with Him
  through faith—not sight.

Then through this fiery trial
  What does my Saviour say?
Perhaps just this, be still
  my child, lean hard and pray.
Today I learned anew to answer:
  "Lord Thy way is best"
Now help me to be still—
  Lean hard—and pray and rest.
  —Author unknown

"Low at Thy feet, Lord Jesus,"
  This is the place for me;
Here I have learned deep lessons:
  Truth that has set me free.

Free from myself, Lord Jesus,
  Free from the Ways of men;
Chains of thought that have bound me
  Never can bind again.

None but Thyself, Lord Jesus,
  Conquered this wayward will,
But for Thy love constraining,
  I had been wayward still.
  —Found in J.N.D.'s Bible after his departure

Loved ones will weep o'er my silent face,
Dear ones will clasp me in sad embrace,
Shadows and darkness will fill the place,
Five minutes after I die?

Faces that sorrow I will not see,
Voices that murmur will not reach me,
But where, oh, where will my spirit be,
Five minutes after I die?

Quickly the years of my life have flown,
Gathering treasures I thought my own,
There I must reap from the seed I have sown
Five minutes after I die.

Naught to repair the good I lack,
Fixed to the goal of my chosen track,
No room to repent, no turning back,
Five minutes after I die.

Now I can stifle convictions stirred,
Now I can silence the Voice oft heard,
Then the fulfilment of God's sure Word,
Five minutes after I die.

Mated for aye with my chosen throng,
Long is eternity, O, so long,
Then woe is me if my soul be wrong,
Five minutes after I die.

O, what a fool—hard the word, but true,
Passing the Saviour with death in view,
Doing a deed I can ne'er undo,
Five minutes after I die.

If I am flinging a fortune away,
If I am wasting salvation's day
"Just is my sentence," my soul shall say,
Five minutes after I die.

God help you to choose! Your eternal state
Depends on your choice, you dare not wait;
You must choose now; it will be too late
Five minutes after you die.
  —Author unknown

The Lord may come at evening twilight,
Or at mid-night's deepest gloom;
Perhaps at crimson flush of morning,
Or the brightness of the noon.

Chorus:
He is coming! Yes, He's coming!
Christ our Prophet, Priest and King;
While we watch for His appearing,
Let us pray and serve and sing!

The dead in Christ, the saints then living,
Both shall meet Him in the air;
With joy presented to the Father,
Spotless, faultless, glorious, fair!

Thro'out the vast eternal ages,
In that place beyond compare,
We'll see Him, serve Him, praise Him ever.
And His endless glories share!
  —Alfred P. Gibbs (1890-1967)

When, sin-stricken, burdened, and weary,
  From bondage I longed to be free,
There came to my heart the sweet message:
  My grace is sufficient for thee."

Though tempted and sadly discouraged,
  My soul to this refuge will flee,
And rest in the blessed assurance:
  My grace is sufficient for thee."

My bark may be tossed by the tempest
  That sweeps o'er the turbulent sea—
A rainbow illumines the darkness:
  My grace is sufficient for thee."

O Lord, I would press on with courage,
  Though rugged the pathway may be,
Sustained and upheld by the promise:
  My grace is sufficient for thee."

Soon, soon will the warfare be over,
  My Lord face to face I shall see,
And prove, as I dwell in His presence:
  His grace was sufficient for me."
  —Anonymous

I could not do without Thee,
O Saviour of the lost!
Whose precious blood redeemed me,
At such tremendous cost.
Thy righteousness, Thy pardon,
Thy precious blood must be
My only hope and comfort,
My glory and my plea!

I could not do without Thee!
I cannot stand alone,
I have no strength or goodness,
No wisdom of my own.
But Thou, belovèd Saviour,
Art all in all to me;
And weakness will be power,
If leaning hard on Thee.

I could not do without Thee!
I cannot stand alone,
I have no strength or goodness,
No wisdom of my own.
But Thou, belovèd Saviour,
Art all in all to me;
And weakness will be power,
If leaning hard on Thee.

I could not do without Thee,
O Jesus, Saviour dear!
E'en when my eyes are holden,
I know that Thou art near.
How dreary and how lonely
This changeful life would be,
Without the sweet communion,
The secret rest with Thee!

I could not do without Thee!
No other friend can read
The spirit's strange deep longings,
Interpreting its need.
No human heart could enter
Each dim recess of mine,
And soothe and hush and calm it,
O blessèd Lord, but Thine!

I could not do without Thee!
For years are fleeting fast,
And soon, in solemn loneliness,
The river must be passed.
But Thou wilt never leave me,
And, though the waves roll high,
I know Thou wilt be near me,
And whisper, "It is I."
  —Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879)

Ye are bought with a price. 1 Corinthians 6:20

Ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold... But with the Precious Blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. 1 Peter 1:18, 19

Neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by His own Blood. Hebrews 9:12

Thou...hast redeemed us to God by Thy Blood. Revelation 5:9

The church—which He hath purchased with His own Blood. Acts 20:28

Bought with a price, O what a price!
  'Twas Jesus' precious Blood,
That bought our pardon, cleansed our sin
  And brought us nigh to God.

'Twas not the blood of calves or goats,
  That bought our pardon free,
But Jesus Christ's most precious Blood,
  Shed forth at Calvary.

For gold or silver would not do,
  Redemption's price to pay;
Naught but the precious Blood of Christ
  Could wash our sins away.

No other Name, no other way,
  For sin could e'er atone;
So Jesus shed His precious Blood  
Which saves, and His alone.

'Twas matchless love that moved His heart
  To take the sinner's place,
For us, to suffer on the cross,
  'Twas wondrous, matchless grace!

Bought with a price, a costly price!
  The holy Lamb of God,
So willingly laid down His life,
  Redeemed us by His Blood.

"To Him who washed us in His Blood,"
  To Him be glory given,
Who paid the ransom, cleansed our sin,
  And purchased us for heaven.

Thou holy, spotless Lamb of God,
  We worship and adore,
Our praises and thanksgiving bring
  To Thee, forevermore.
  —Author unknown

The Blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin. 1 John 1:7

Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own Blood—to Him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen. Revelation 1:5, 6

Jesus, Saviour, pilot me,
Over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal:
Chart and compass come from Thee:
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will
When thou say'st to them "Be still!"
Wondrous Sovereign of the sea,
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar
'Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
"Fear not, I will pilot thee!"
  —Edward Hopper (1816-1888)

Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,
When the clouds unfold their wings of strife?
When the strong tides lift, and the cables strain,
Will your anchor drift, or firm remain?

Refrain:
We have an anchor that keeps the soul,
Steadfast and sure while the billows roll;
Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.

Will your anchor hold in the straits of fear,
When the breakers roar and the reef is near?
While the surges rage, and the wild winds blow,
Shall the angry waves then your bark o'erflow?

Will your anchor hold in the floods of death,
When the waters cold chill your latest breath?
On the rising tide you can never fail,
While your anchor holds within the veil.

Will your eyes behold through the morning light
The city of gold and the harbour bright?
Will you anchor safe by the heavenly shore,
When life's storms are past forevermore?
  —Priscilla J. Owens (1829-1907)

My faith looks up to Thee,
  Thou Lamb of Calvary,
Savior divine.
  Now hear me while I pray;
Take all my guilt away;
  O let me from this day
Be wholly thine.

May Thy rich grace impart
  Strength to my fainting heart;
My zeal inspire!
  As Thou hast died for me,
O may my love to Thee
  Pure, warm, and changeless be,
A living fire.

While life's dark maze I tread,
  And griefs around me spread,
Be Thou my Guide.
  Bid darkness turn to day,
Wipe sorrow's tears away,
  Nor let me ever stray
From Thee aside.

When ends life's transient dream,
  When death's cold, sullen stream
Shall o'er me roll,
  Blest Savior, then, in love,
Fear and distrust remove;
  O bear me safe above
, A ransomed soul!
  —Ray Palmer (1808-1887)

Thou art coming, mighty Saviour,
  "King of kings," Thy written Name:
Thou art coming, royal Saviour,
  Coming for Thy promised reign.
O, the joy, when sin's confusion
  Ends beneath Thy righteous sway;
O, the peace, when all delusion
  At Thy presence dies away.

Thou art coming, loving Saviour,
  Coming first to claim Thine own.
Thou art coming, faithful Saviour,—
  Thou could'st not abide alone.
In Thy Father's house in glory,
  Sinners saved shall dwell with Thee;
O, the sweetness of the story,—
  Love's own record we shall be.

Thou art coming, gracious Saviour,
Ah, to see Thy face we long;
Thou art coming, blessed Saviour,
  Righting all creation's wrong.
Nation rises against nation,
  Trouble spreads from shore to shore.
Thou art God's supreme salvation,
  Come, and chaos shall be o'er.

Once Thy coming, Holy Saviour,
  Expiation made for sin.
Wondrous coming, lowly Saviour,
  Wondrous Child in Bethlehem.
Thine the wisdom in the manger,
  Thine the power upon the cross,
Thine the glory as the stranger!
  Riches, though in utter loss.

Thou art coming, crowned Saviour,
  Not "the second time" for sin.
Thou art coming, throned Saviour,
  Bringing all the glory in.
All Thy Father's house, the glory,
  Hangs, by sure behest on Thee!
O, the sweetness of the story,—  
Saviour, come, we wait for Thee.
  —Author unknown

Blessèd Redeemer, full of compassion,
Great is Thy mercy, boundless and free;
Now in my weakness, seeking Thy favor,
Lord, I am coming closer to Thee.

Chorus:
Blessèd Redeemer, wonderful Savior,
Fountain of wisdom, Ancient of Days,
Hope of the faithful, Light of all ages,
Jesus my Savior, Thee will I praise.

Blessèd Redeemer, Thou art my Refuge,
Under Thy watch-care, safe I shall be;
Gladly adoring, joyfully trusting,
Still I am coming closer to Thee.

Blessèd Redeemer, gracious and tender,
New and forever dwell Thou in me;
Thou, my Protector, Shield and Defender,
Draw me and keep me closer to Thee.
  —Fanny Crosby (1820-1915)

When I stand at the judgment seat of Christ,
  And He shows me His plan for me,
The plan for my life as it might have been
  Had He had His way, and I see

How I blocked Him here, and I checked Him there
  And I would not yield my will—
Will there be grief in my Saviour's eyes,
  Grief, though He loves me still?

He would have me rich, and I stand there poor,
  Stripped of all but His grace,
While memory runs like a hunted thing
  Down the paths I cannot retrace.

Then my desolate heart will well-nigh break
  With tears that I cannot shed;
I shall cover my face with my empty hands;
  I shall bow my uncrowned head.

Lord, of the years that are left to me,
  I give them to Thy hand;
Take me and break me, and mold me
  To the pattern Thou hast planned!
  —Martha Snell Nicholson (1888-1957)

A look into my Bible,
  In mornings dewy hour,
For all the day may bring me,
  Will gird my soul with pow'r;
You who have never tried it,
  Know not the help 'twill be;
But, oh, this word of blessing
  Means so much to me.

Refrain:
It means so much, so much to me,
  Of mercy full and free, full and free;
A smile of love from the Lord above
  Means so much to me.

A heart-to-heart communion
  Before the throne of grace,
Reveals to me more clearly
  The sunshine of His face;
You who have never tried it,
  Know not the light 'twill be;
But, oh, a talk with Jesus
  Means so much to me.

An all-day walk with Jesus,
  While busy moments fly,
Rejoicing in His service,
  Thru grace that He'll supply;
You who have never tried it,
  Know not the joy 'twill be;
But, oh, this life with Jesus
  Means so much to me.
  —Eliza Hewitt (1851-1920)

Though on a bed of suffering
I'm called a while to stay,
My spirit looks with pleasure
To that long-promised day,
When free from sin and sorrow
I'm evermore to be
With Him who died to save me,
The Man of Calvary.

My weary days of suffering
Will soon have passed away,
And rest will seem the sweeter
In Heaven's eternal day;
So with this hope before me
In patience I would be
Sustained in my affliction
Until Thy face I see.
  —Edwin B. Hartt (1861-1929)

When this passing world is done,
When has sunk yon glowing sun,
When we stand with Christ in glory,
Looking o'er life's finished story,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know—
Not till then— how much I owe.
  —Robert Murray McCheyne (1813-1843)

O Thou to whom, without reserve,
  My all I would resign,
I ask for grace and faith to say,
  "Thy will, O Lord, not mine!"
In joy or grief, in bliss or pain,
  This prayer shall rise to Thee,
"Thy will, not mine, O blessed Lord,
  Thy will be done in me!"

Though thorns may pierce my weary feet,
  Yet would I ne'er repine,
But meekly say, as Thou hast said,
  "Thy will, O Lord, not mine!"
And though I pass beneath Thy rod,
  Amen, so let it be!
Whate'er Thou wilt, O blessed Lord,
  I know is best for me.

So would I live that I may feel
  Thy perfect peace divine,
And still Thy pure example show
  In every act of mine;
And till I reach the silent vale,
  And cross the narrow sea,
Be this my prayer, O blessed Lord,
  "Thy will be done in me!"
  —Fanny Crosby (1820-1915)

Then I shall know even as also I am known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

MY LIFE is but a weaving
  Between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors
  He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow
  And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
  And I, the underside.

Not till the loom is silent
  And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
  And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
  In the Weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
  In the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares,
  Nothing this truth can dim,
He gives His very best to those
  Who leave the choice with Him.
  —Author unknown

"Disappointment — His appointment."
  Change one letter, then I see
That the thwarting of my purpose
  Is God's better choice for me.
His appointment must be blessing
  Tho' it may come in disguise,
For the end from the beginning
  Open to His wisdom lies.

"Disappointment — His appointment."
  Whose? The Lord who loves me best—
Understands and knows me fully,
  Who my faith and love would test:
For, like loving earthly parent,
  He rejoices when He knows
That His child accepts unquestioned
  All that from His wisdom flows.

"Disappointment — His appointment."
  "No good thing will He withhold."
From denials oft we gather
  Treasures of His love untold.
Well He knows each broken purpose
  Leads to fuller, deeper trust;
And the end of all His dealings
  Proves our God is wise and just.

"Disappointment — His appointment."
  Lord, I take it then as such;
Like the clay in hands of potter,
  Yielding wholly to Thy touch.
All my life's plan is Thy moulding—
  Not one single choice be mine;
Let me answer unrepining,
  "Father, not my will but Thine."

"Disappointment — His appointment."
  Change the letter then, dear friend;
Take in cheerful acquiescence
  All the Father's love may send.
Soon will faith be lost in vision,
  Then in glory thou shalt see
"His appointment," and that only,
  Was the right way home for thee.
  —Author unknown

If any man serve Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there shall also My servant be: if any man serve Me, him will My Father honour. John 12:26

He that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life. John 8:12

Turn not aside from following the LORD, but serve the LORD with all your heart. I Samuel 12:20

True service is to follow
  Where'er the Lord may lead;
Depending on His guidance,
  Unto His voice to heed.

To listen for His bidding,
  To seek to know His mind;
Obeying, then, His counsels,
  When His desire you find.

There's nothing else can equal
  This service to fulfill;
Of following His leading,—
  Just being in His will.

This Shepherd true will lead us
  To pastures green, and rest;
To paths of sweet communion,
  With His own presence blest.

And what on earth could equal
  His fellowship so sweet?
Engaged with Christ our object
  Gives happiness complete.

No outward show of service,
  No fame of conquests won;
This path is for His judgment,—
  Seeks only His "Well done."

O if He bids thee follow,
  Fear not to make the choice;
Rich blessings He bestoweth
  On those who heed His voice.

His grace is all sufficient,
  His promises are sure,
He grants the keeping power—
  His mercy doth endure.

So do not fear to follow,
  He goeth on before;
To joy and peace He leadeth,
  And life forevermore.
  —Author unknown

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. John 10:27

Follow thou me. John 21:22

"Have you cast your vote?" they ask me,
  "We must not this right forego,
Have you heard our party's leader?
  He's the coming man, you know".

So I fear I'm thought a shirker
  When the polling day comes 'round,
And in the freeman's voting
  My ballot is not found.

But one thing they're not knowing—
  I did cast my vote one day,
And all the powers of evil
  Cannot take my choice away.

That ballot's penned in crimson
  For all eternity—
How can I choose another
  To rule affairs for me?

Some day the list of voters,
  By His own love now sealed,
Will be at last made public
  And every name revealed.

So now the question's turning
  For you in this campaign,
"Will you be in that glory
  When Jesus comes to reign?"

Have you read His campaign speeches?—
  "My sheep—they hear My voice,
Eternal life I give them
  Who makes Me now his choice."

Fight on in earth's elections
  If thus you're satisfied,
But will your ballot fail Him
  Whom your sins crucified?

And when the books are opened,
  What will the records show?
Have you cast your vote for, Jesus?
  He's the Coming Man, you know.
  —Author unknown

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save me from its guilt and power.

Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly,
Wash me, Saviour, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
While mine eyes shall close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
  —Augustus Montague Toplady (1740-1778)

Not what my hands have done
  Can save my guilty soul;
Not what my toiling flesh has borne
  Can make my spirit whole.
Not what I feel or do
  Can give me peace with God;
Not all my prayers and sighs and tears
  Can bear my awful load.

Thy work alone, O Christ,
  Can ease this weight of sin;
Thy blood alone, O Lamb of God,
  Can give me peace within.
Thy love to me, O God,
  Not mine, O Lord, to Thee,
Can rid me of this dark unrest,
  And set my spirit free.

Thy grace alone, O God,
  To me can pardon speak;
Thy pow'r alone, O Son of God,
  Can this sore bondage break.
No other work, save Thine,
  No other blood will do;
No strength, save that which is divine,
  Can bear me safely through.

I bless the Christ of God;
  I rest on love divine;
And with unfalt'ring lip and heart,
  I call this Savior mine.
His cross dispels each doubt;
  I bury in his tomb
Each thought of unbelief and fear,
  Each ling'ring shade of gloom.

I praise the God of grace;
  I trust his truth and might;
He calls me his, I call Him mine,
  My God, my joy, my light.
'Tis He Who saveth me,
  And freely pardon gives;
I love because He loveth me,
  I live because He lives.
  —Horatius Bonar (1808-1889)

Oh that when Christians meet and part,
These words were graved on every heart—
  They're dear to God!
However willful and unwise,
We'll look on them with loving eyes—
  They're dear to God!
Oh, wonder! - to the Eternal One,
Dear as His own beloved Son;
Dearer to Jesus than His blood,
Dear as the Spirit's fixed abode—
  They're dear to God!

When tempted to give pain for pain,
How would this thought our words restrain,
  They're dear to God!
When truth compels us to contend,
What love with all our strife should blend!
  They're dear to God.
When they would shun the pilgrim's lot
For this vain world, forget them not;
But win them back with love and prayer,
They never can be happy there,
  If dear to God.

Shall we be there so near, so dear,
And be estranged and cold whilst here
  All dear to God?
By the same cares and toils opprest,
We lean upon one faithful Breast,
We hasten to the same repose;
How bear or do enough for those
So dear to God!
  —Author unknown

COMMIT thy way unto the LORD; TRUST also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass. Psalm 37:5

"Commit thy way unto the Lord"
  If you would happy be;
He watches o'er with tender eye,
  And knows what's best for thee.

"Commit thy way unto the Lord,"
  The true and faithful Guide,
Whose love desires your fellowship,
  He's ever at your side.

"Commit thy way unto the Lord"
  And trust His guiding hand
To lead you through this wilderness,—
  Your every step He's planned.

"Commit thy way unto the Lord,"—
  He knows thy pathway best,
Reposing in His will for you
  Will give the sweetest rest.

"He worketh all things out for good"
  For them that love the Lord,
"Commit thy way," then rest and trust—
  He'll bless you in reward.

"Commit thy way unto the Lord,"
  From doubts and worries cease;
To let Him have His way with you
  Will give you perfect peace.

"Commit thy way,"—'tis His delight,
  Planned by His heart of love,
To bless and give you happiness,
  And lead you home above.
  —Author unknown

There's only one way by which sinners are saved,
  And that's by the way of the cross;
No works of our own, be they ever so great;
  With God they are nothing but dross.

There's only one Saviour who's able to save,
  That Saviour is Jesus the Lord,
The One who is human, and also divine.
  Whose title we read is "The Word."

There's only one path! It is narrow and straight.
  But it leads to the glory of God;
Its pleasures are lasting, they fade not away,
  Tis the path which the Nazarene trod.

There's only one Book that can guide you aright—
  The Bible, God's treasure so true;
Its precepts are binding, its teachings are pure,
  This Book God has given to you.

Then take this sure way by which sinners are saved,
  This Saviour so loving and true,
And walk in the path that will lead you to God—
  And remember, this Book is for you.
  —Author unknown

Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me. John 14:6

I met the Lord in the morning,
  When the day was at its best,
And His presence came like sunshine,
  Like a glory in my breast.

All day long His presence lingered,
  All day long it stayed with me,
And we sailed in perfect calmness
  O'er a very troubled sea.

Other ships were torn and battered,
  Other ships were sore distressed,
But the winds that seemed to drive them
  Brought to us sweet peace and rest.

Then I thought of other mornings
  In a keen remorse of mind,
When I too had loosed the moorings,
  With His presence left behind.

So I think I know the secret,
  Learned from many a troubled way:
You must meet Him in the morning
  If you want Him through the day.
  —Author unknown

It is not for a King we are longing
To make the world kingdom His own;
It is not for a Judge who shall summon
The nations of earth to His throne;

Not for those, though we know they are coming,
For they are but conditions of Him
Before whom all glory is clouded,
Beside whom all splendor grows dim.

We wait for the Lord, our Beloved,
Our Comforter, Master and Friend;
The substance of all we have hoped for,
Beginning of faith, and its end.

We watch for our Saviour and Bridegroom,
Who loved us and made us His own;
For Him we are looking and longing—
For Jesus, and Jesus alone!
  —Author unknown

Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide:
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see:
O Thou Who changeth not, abide with me!

I need Thy presence every passing hour:
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me!

I fear not foe with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death's sting? where, grace, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies.
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain
  shadows flee—
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
  —Henry F. Lyte (1793-1847)

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee. Isaiah 26:3

O! for the peace of a perfect trust,
  My loving God, in Thee;
Unwavering faith that never doubts
  Thou choosiest best for me.

Best, though my plans be all upset;
  Best though my way be rough;
Best, though my earthly store be scant;
  In Thee I have enough.

Best, though my health and strength be gone;
  Though weary days be mine;
Shut out from much that others have;
  Not my will, Lord, but Thine.

And e'en though disappointments come,
  They, too, are best for me
To wean me from this changing world
  And lead me nearer Thee.

O! for the peace of a perfect trust,
  That looks away from all;
That sees Thy hand in everything,
  In great events and small.

That hears Thy voice — a Father's voice—
  Directing for the best—
O! for the peace of a perfect trust,
  A heart with Thee at rest.
  —Author unknown

Dying with Jesus, by death reckoned mine;
Living with Jesus, a new life divine;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine,
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am thine.

Refrain:
Moment by moment I'm kept in his love;
Moment by moment I've life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am thine.

Never a trial that he is not there,
Never a burden that he doth not bear,
Never a sorrow that he doth not share,
Moment by moment, I'm under his care.

Never a weakness that he doth not feel,
Never a sickness that he cannot heal;
Moment by moment, in woe or in weal,
Jesus, my Saviour, abides with me still.
  —D. W. Whittle (1840-1901)

God has not promised skies always blue,
  Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God has not promised sun without rain,
  Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

God has not promised we shall not know
  Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He has not told us we shall not bear
  Many a burden, many a care.

God has not promised smooth roads and wide,
  Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain rocky and steep,
  Never a river turbid and deep.

But God has promised strength for the day,
  Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
  Unfailing kindness, undying love.
  —Annie Johnson Flint (1866-1932)

"The mistakes of my life have been many,
The sins of my heart have been more,
And I scarce can see for weeping,
But I'll knock at the open door.

I know I am weak and sinful,
It comes to me more and more,
But as the dear Saviour bids me come in.
I'll enter the open door."
  —Author unknown

For yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry. Hebrews 10:37

Only "a little while,"
  A moment it may be,
Ere I shall see Him face to face,
  Who died, who lives for me.

Only "a little while,"
  The wilderness to roam,
And then the Father's house above,
  My dwelling-place, my home.

Only "a little while,"
  To walk by faith alone,
And then without a veil to see,
  And know as I am known.

Only "a little while,"
  To tread the path He trod,
And then the Home of rest and joy,
  The dwelling-place of God.

Only "a little while,"
  Then watching will be o'er,
And we shall see Him face to face,
  And worship evermore.

Only "a little while,"
  O, precious, cheering word!
It may be ere this day shall close
  I shall behold my Lord.

Then not "a little while,"
  But through eternal days,
To sing the never-ending song
  Of tribute to His praise!
  —Author unknown

Let your lights be burning brightly,
  And your loins be girded well,
Watching daily, watching nightly,
  When He cometh! who can tell?
No one knoweth but the Father
  When the Bridegroom shall appear,
Think not on the when—but rather
  How his coming we shall bear.

If our lights are burning brightly,
  Then indeed we may rejoice;
If we're watching daily, nightly,
  We shall hear the Bridegroom's voice,
When He cometh, saying sweetly,.
  "Come, ye blessed ones, away!
Washed and purified completely,
  Come and be with me for aye."

Close the mortal eyes, and listen!
  Hearest thou refrains on high—
Seest thou not the bright wings glisten
  Of the herald angels nigh?
Christ is coming! anthems ringing.
  Blessed Lamb for sinners slain;
Ransomed ones on earth are singing,
  Catching up the heavenly strain:

"Unto Him whose blood has bought us,
  Pardoned, cleansed, and set us free—
Jesus came on earth and sought us,
  His to all eternity."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

But—and if our lamps are burning
  Dimly, or not light at all;
Ne'er from worldly pleasure turning,
  Heeding not the Gospel's call;
Never watching, never praying
  E'en for grace to watch and pray;
Self's own impulses obeying—
  Living thus from day to day—

Who a shelter will provide us?
  Who sustain each fainting heart?
Rooks and mountains will not hide us
  From that bitter curse—" Depart!"
Close thine eyes. Reflect, O mortal!
  What will then thy portion be:
Shut for aye the heavenly portal,
  Outer darkness left for thee.

Christ is coming! Flee to Jesus!
  Cast your burden on his Cross.
Jesus crucified! He frees us
  From all guilt and stain and dross.
Come at once; He's waiting for us;
  Only trust his power and love;
Come and join the angelic chorus
  Of the multitude above:
"Unto Him whose blood has bought us.
  Washed our robes and made us free,
For His Bride, his Church, He sought us.
  His to all eternity."
  —Caroline L. Elliott

They are without fault before the throne of God. Revelation 14:5

Now unto Him who is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy. Jude 24

Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for it ... that He might present it to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. Ephesians 5:25, 27

Faultless! O how wonderful
  That I shall ever be,
Before His presence clean and white,
  From sin, forever free.

Faultless! Yes, 'tis marvelous
  That Jesus loved me so,
To cleanse me from my many sins,
  And make me white as snow.

Though Satan would discourage now,
  Accusing me of sin,
I firmly rest on Jesus' blood,
  Which cleanseth me within.

And I look forward to that time,
   When sin will all be gone,
I'll be presented clean and white
  Before the Father's throne.

Because of faults and failures now,
  His gracious Word we need,
"With meekness to forbear in love,"
  To this we must give heed.

But vexing failures of the flesh
  Which mar communion sweet,
Will be forever done away,
  When round His throne we meet.

"No spot in thee," no failure now,
  My sins all washed away,
I'll faultless in His presence stand,
  O blessed, coming day!
  —Author unknown

There is no spot in thee. Song of Solomon 4:7

The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin. 1 John 1:7

He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom. Isaiah 40:11

Rest for the little sleeper!
  Joy for the ransomed soul!
Peace for the lonely weeper,
  Dark tho' the waters roll.

Weep for the little sleeper:
  Weep, it will ease thy heart,
Tho' the dull pain be deeper
  Than with the world to part.

Mighty the conflict o'er him!
  How could he face the foe?
Rugged the road before him!
  How could the weak one go?

He could not climb the mountain;
  He could not face the foe,
Lying between Life's Fountain,
  And this dark vale below.

But the kind Shepherd found him,
  Laid him upon His breast,
Folded His arms around him,
  Hushed him to endless rest.

He bore him up the mountain,
  He trampled down the foe,
He laid him by Life''s Fountain,
  Whence the still waters flow.

Joy for the little sleeper,
  The gentle, timid lamb,
Safe with his tender Keeper!
  Could there be sweeter balm?

Oh! what are earth's best pleasures,
  Sick'ning the woe-struck heart?
What all its joys and treasures,
  When with the loved we part?

But the long-wished-for token,
  Earnest of peaceful rest,
Binds up the heart that's broken,
  Soothes the distracted breast.

Do not, then, droop in sadness,
  Dark tho' the night may be;
There's a bright morn of gladness,
  Mourner, reserved for thee!

Grieve not with hopeless sorrow,
  Jesus has felt thy pain;
Thy child He did not but borrow,
  He'll bring him back again.

Peace, little loving sleeper,
  Close to the Saviour's side,
Housed with thy tender Keeper,
  Safe—for "the Lord has died!"
  —Author unknown

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In ev'ry change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
  —by Kathrina von Schlegel (1697-17??);
  translated by Jane Borthwick (1813-1897)

A Virgin shall bring forth a Son,
Foretold so long ago:
True Son of God, and Son of Man—
The whole wide world should know.
The Virgin Mary was the maid
To whom the angel came
And told the manner of His birth,
And gave to Him His name.

The Inn was full, there was no room,
They found a stall instead.
When Christ the Saviour came to earth
A manger was His bed.
Yet angels sang a glad refrain
Of praise to God above,
For Christ the Lord was born on earth:
The fulness of God's love.

Some shepherds heard the angels sing
About the Saviour's birth,
Then went to see the Holy Child:
True God and man on earth.
Now we proclaim the joyful sound—
Hosannas gladly sing—
For Christ was born in Bethlehem,
Our Saviour, coming King!
  —Edward L. Crane

It is not for a sign we are watching—
For wonders above and below,
The pouring of vials and judgment,
The sounding of trumpets of woe;
It is not for a Day we are looking,
Not even the time yet to be
When the earth shall be filled with God's glory
As the waters cover the sea.
It is not for a King we are longing
To make the world-kingdoms His own;
It is not for a Judge Who shall summon
The nations of earth to His throne.
Not for these, though we know they are coming;
For they are but adjuncts of Him
Before Whom all glory is clouded,
Beside Whom all splendor grows dim.
We wait for the Lord, our Beloved,
Our Comforter, Master, and Friend,
The substance of all that we hope for,
Beginning of faith and its end;
We watch for our Saviour and Bridegroom,
Who loved us and made us His own;
For Him we are looking and longing
For JESUS, and JESUS ALONE.
  —Annie Johnson Flint (1866-1932)

>> Christian Poems and Hymns: Collection 2