Meditations. Sacred selections
from Gadsby's hymns. Tape two. Newton. Prayer. Answered by crosses. I asked the Lord that I might
grow in faith and love and every grace. Might more of his salvation
know. and seek more earnestly his face. T'was he who taught me thus to
pray, and he, I trust, has answered prayer. But it has been in such
a way as almost drove me to despair. I hoped that in some fabled hour
At once he'd answer my request. And by his love's constraining
power, subdue my sins and give me rest. Instead of this, he made me feel
the hidden evils of my heart. and let the angry powers of hell
assault my soul in every part. Yea, more. With his own hand he seemed intent
to aggravate my woe. Crossed all the fair designs
I schemed, blasted my courts, and laid me low. Why is this? I trembling cried. Wilt thou pursue thy worm to
death? Tis in this way, the Lord replied. I answer prayer for grace and
faith. These inward trials I employ
for self and pride. to set thee free and break thy
schemes of earthly joy that thou mayest seek thy all in me. Newton, I will not let thee go
except thou bless me Lord, I cannot let thee go till
a blessing thou bestow. Do not turn away thy face. Mine's an urgent, pressing case. Dost thou ask me who I am? Ah, my Lord, thou know'st my
name. Yet the question gives a plea. to support my suit with thee. Thou didst once a wretch behold
in rebellion, blindly bold, scorn thy grace, thy power defy. That poor rebel, Lord, was I. Once a sinner near despair, sought
thy mercy seat by prayer. Mercy heard and set him free. Lord, that mercy came to me. Many days have passed since then. Many changes I have seen, yet
have been upheld till now. Who could hold me up but thou? Thou hast helped in every need. This emboldens me to plead. After so much mercy passed, canst
thou let me sink at last? No, I must maintain my hold. Tis thy goodness makes me bold. I can no denial take, When I
plead for Jesus' sake. Cooper, the Lord my banner, By whom was David taught to aim
the dreadful blow, When he Goliath fought and laid the Gittite low? No sword nor spear the stripling
took, But chose a pebble from the brook. It was Israel's God and King
who sent him to the fight, who gave him strength to swing and
skill to aim aright. Ye feeble saints, your strength
endures, because young David's God is yours. who ordered Gideon forth to storm
the invader's camp with arms of little worth, a pitcher, and
a lamp. The trumpets made his coming
known, and all the host was overthrown. Oh, I have seen the day when, with
a single word, God helping me to say my trust is in the Lord. My soul has quelled a thousand
foes, fearless of all that could oppose. But unbelief self-will, self-righteousness,
and pride. How often do they steal my weapon
from my side? Yet, David's lord and Gideon's
friend will help his servant To the end. Top ladies. Happiness. The lovely name. Where's thy seat? Oh, tell me
where. Learning, pleasure, wealth, and
fame all cry out. It is not here. Not the wisdom of the wise can
inform me where it lies. Not the grandeur of the great
can the bliss I seek create. Object of my first desire, Jesus
crucified for me. all to happiness aspire only
to be found in Thee Thee to praise and Thee to know
constitute our bliss below Thee to see and Thee to love constitute
our bliss above. Lord, it is not life to live
if thy presence thou deny. Lord, if thou thy presence give,
tis no longer death to die. Source and giver of repose, Singly
from thy smile it flows. Happiness, complete, is thine, Mine it is, if thou art mine. Charles Wesley love divine, all love excelling,
joy of heaven to earth come down. Fix in us thy humble dwelling,
all thy faithful mercies crowned. Jesus, art all compassion, pure
unbounded love, Thou art. Visit us with Thy salvation. Comfort every sinking heart. Breathe, oh breathe, Thy blessed
Spirit into every troubled breast. Let us all in Thee inherit Let
us find thy promised rest. Take away the love of sinning. Alpha and Omega be. End of faith as its beginning. Set our hearts at liberty. Carry on thy new creation Pure
and holy may we be Let us see our whole salvation Perfectly
secured by thee Changed from glory into glory
Till in heaven we take our place Till we cast our crowns before
Thee Lost in wonder, love, and praise Kent leaning upon her beloved From sin's dark thorny maze To
Canaan's fertile plains, A travelling pharaohine in distress On her
beloved leans. Through fire and flood she goes,
A weakling more than strong. Thence in his bosom all her woes
And leaning moves along When dangers round her press
And darkness veils the skies She leans upon His righteousness
From thence her hopes arise When guilt, a mighty flood, Her
trembling conscience pains, Then, on his peace-securing blood,
This traveling fair one leans. She views the covenant sure,
Her hopes all center there, And on his bosom leans secure Whose temples bled for her Kelly He comes, the Savior full of
grace By ancient prophets sung the smile of mercy on his face,
and truth upon his tongue. In him the world no beauty sees,
no form nor comeliness. Rejected and despised he is,
and plunged in deep distress. But there's a people taught by
grace to know his matchless worth. They own him though the counted
face and show his praises forth. They own Him as the Lord of all,
their Savior and their God. Before His feet they prostrate
fall, the purchase of His blood. H. Fowler they that sow in tears
shall reap in joy. Sinners, in their deep affliction,
sigh and groan beneath their load, long to read their own
election, and with pleasure say, My God, Trembling, fearing, hoping still in Jesus' blood. Blessed are the souls who tremble
at Jehovah's searching word. Contrite hearts cannot dissemble
God has slain them with his sword. Doubting. Fearing. Still, their hope is in the Lord. Mourning saint whose heart is
broken. Love shall wipe thy weeping eye. Ask thy Savior for this token. All thy needs He will supply. Fear not, mourner. Christ will make you reap in
joy. Glorious things of Thee are spoken
Zion, city of our God He whose word cannot be broken Formed
Thee for His own abode On the rock of ages founded What
can shake Thy sure repose? With salvation's wall surrounded,
Thou mayest smile on all Thy foes. See, the streams of living waters,
springing from eternal love, Well supply thy sons and daughters,
And all fear of want remove. Who can faint while such a river
Ever flows there first to assuage? Grace, which, like the Lord,
the Giver, never fails from age to age. Round each habitation hovering,
see the cloud and the fire appear, for a glory and a covering, showing
that the Lord is near. Thus deriving from their banner,
Light by night and shade by day, Safe they feed upon the manna
Which He gives them when they pray. Blessed inhabitants of Zion, in the Redeemer's blood. Jesus,
whom their souls rely on, makes them kings and priests to God. Tis His love His people raises,
over self to reign as kings. and as priests His solemn praises,
each for a thank-offering brings. Light, O we have left all and
followed Thee. Jesus, We, our cross have taken,
all to leave and follow Thee. Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence our all shalt be. Let the world despise and leave
us, They have left the Savior too. Human hearts and looks deceive
us. Thou art not like them, untrue. And while thou shalt smile upon
us, God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate and friends
disown us. Show thy face and all is bright. Man may trouble and distress
us. Twill but drive us to thy breast. Life with trials hard may press
us. Heaven will bring us sweeter
rest. Cooper, lovest thou me? Hark, my soul, it is the Lord. It is thy Savior, hear His word. Jesus speaks and speaks to thee. Say, poor sinner, lovest thou
me? I delivered thee when bound,
and when wounded, healed thy wound. Sought thee wandering,
set thee right, Turned thy darkness into light. Can a woman's tender care Cease
towards the child she bear? Yes, she may forgetful be, Yet
I will remember thee. Mine is an unchanging love, higher
than the heights above, deeper than the depths beneath, free
and faithful, strong as death. Thou shalt see my glory soon,
when the work of grace is done. Partner of my throne shalt be. Say, poor sinner, lovest thou
me? Lord, it is my chief complaint. That my love is cold and faint. Yet I love thee and adore. Oh, for grace to love thee more. Newton, lacked he anything? Be still, my heart. These anxious
cares to Thee are burdens, thorns, and snares. They cast dishonor
on my Lord and contradict His gracious word. Brought safely by His hand thus
far, why dost Thou now give place to fear? How canst thou want if he provide,
Or lose thy way with such a guide? Did ever trouble yet befall,
And he refuse to hear thy call? And hath he not his promise passed,
That thou shalt overcome? at last he who has helped me hitherto
will help me all my journey through and give me daily cause to raise
new Ebenezers to his praise Charles Wesley. With well-doing
ye may put to silence. Watched by the world with jealous
eye, That fain would see our sin and shame, As servants of
the Lord Most High, As zealous for His glorious name. May we
in all our footsteps move with holy fear and humble love. That wisdom, Lord, on us bestow
from every evil to depart, to stop the mouth of every foe by
upright walk. and lowly heart. The proofs of godly fear to give. And show the world how Christians
live. Still, I am thy God. Why sinks my weak, desponding
mind? Why heaves my heart the anxious
sigh? Can sovereign goodness be unkind? Am I not safe, since God is nigh? He holds all nature in His hand,
that gracious hand on which I live. Does life and time and death
command, and has immortal joys to give? Tis He supports the fainting
frame, on Him alone my hopes recline. The wondrous glories
of His name How wide they spread, how bright they shine Infinite wisdom, boundless power
Unchanging faithfulness and love Here, let me trust while I adore
Nor from my refuge e'er remove. My God, if Thou art mine indeed,
Then I have all my heart can crave, A present help in times
of need, Still kind to hear and strong to save. Forgive my doubts, O gracious
Lord, and ease the sorrows of my breast. Speak to my heart the healing
word that Thou art mine, and I am blessed. Gadsby. The Lord is at hand. Pause, my soul, and ask the question. Art thou ready to meet God? Am I made a real Christian, washed
in the Redeemer's blood? Have I union to the churches
living head. Am I quickened by His Spirit? Live a life of faith and prayer,
trusting wholly to His merit, casting on Him all my care, daily
panting in His likeness to appear. If my hope on Christ is stayed,
let Him come when He thinks best. O my soul, be not dismayed, lean
upon His loving breast. He will cheer thee with the smilings
of His face. But he's still a total stranger
to his precious name and blood. Thou art on the brink of danger. Canst thou face a holy God? Think and tremble. Death is now upon the road. Cooper, light shining out of
darkness. God moves in a mysterious way,
his wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the
sea and rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable minds of
never failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs and works
his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage
take. The clouds ye so much dread are
big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble
sense, but trust Him for His grace. Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast,
unfolding every hour. The bud may have a bitter taste,
but sweet will be the flower. Blind unbelief is sure to err,
and scan his work in vain. God is his own interpreter, and
he We'll make it plain. T. Green. It is the Lord. It is the Lord, enthroned in
light, whose claims are all divine, who has an undisputed right to
govern me and mine. It is the Lord, Should I distrust
or contradict His will? Who cannot do but what is just,
and must be righteous still? It is the Lord who can sustain
beneath the heaviest load, from whom assistance I obtain to tread. the thorny road. It is the Lord whose matchless
skill can from afflictions raise matter eternity to fill with
ever-growing praise. It is the Lord Thrice blessed be His name, Whose
gracious promise, sealed with blood, Must ever be the same. His covenant will my soul defend,
Should nature's self expire, And the great judge of all Descend
in awful flames of fire. How can my soul, with hopes like
these, be thawed or repined? My gracious God, take what Thou
please, but teach me to resign. Cooper and Enoch walked with
God. Oh, for a closer walk with God,
a calm and heavenly frame, a light to shine upon the road that leads
me to the Lamb. Where is the blessedness I knew
when first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul-refreshing
view of Jesus and his word. What peaceful hours I then enjoyed. How sweet their memories still. But now, I find an aching void. The world can never fill. Return, O holy dove, return. sweet messenger of rest. I hate the sins that made thee
mourn and drove thee from my breast. The dearest idol I have known,
whate'er that idol be, help me to tear it from thy throne and
worship only Thee. So shall my walk be close with
God, calm and serene my frame. So pure light shall mark the
road that leads me to the Lamb. What's? Crucifixion to the world
by the cross. When I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of Glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And poor 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? What's godly sorrow arising from
the sufferings of Christ? Alas! And did my Savior bleed? And did my Sovereign die? Would He devote that sacred head
for such a worm as I? Thy body slain, sweet Jesus,
thine, and bathed in its own blood. While, all exposed to
wrath divine, the glorious sufferer stood. Was it for crimes that I have
done? He groaned upon the tree. Amazing pity. Grace unknown. and love beyond degree. Where might the sun in darkness
hide and shut his glories in? When God, the mighty maker, died
for man, the creatures sinned. Thus might I hide my blushing
face, While his dear cross appears, Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes in tears. Berage the blood of sprinkling, Dear dying friend, we look on
thee and own our foul offenses here. We built thy cross on Calvary,
and nailed and pierced thy body there. Yet let the blood our hands have
spilt be sprinkled on each guilty heart to purge the conscience
well from guilt and everlasting life impart so will we sing thy lovely name
for grace so rich and freely given and tell thy love and tell
our shame. That one we murdered gives us
heaven. Slain, praise for redeeming love. How vast the sufferings! Who
can tell when Jesus fought sin, death, and hell, and was in battle
slain? How great the triumph, who can
sing, When from the grave the immortal king, Triumphant, rose
again? Yet we'll attempt his name to
bless, While we pass through the wilderness, To Canaan's happy
shore. But when we reach the plains
above, and every breath we draw is love. We'll sing his glories
more. Heart. Dialogue between a believer
and his soul. Believer. Come, my soul, and
let us try for a little season Every burden to lay by, come
and let us reason. What is this that casts thee
down? Who are those that grieved thee? Speak, and let the worst be known. Speaking may release thee. So, Oh, I sink beneath the load of
my nature's evil, full of enmity to God, captivated by the devil. Restless as the troubled seas,
feeble, faint, and fearful. Plagued with every sore disease,
how can I be cheerful? Believer, think on what thy Savior
bore in the gloomy garden, sweating blood at every pore to procure
thy pardon. See Him stretched upon the wood,
bleeding, grieving, crying, suffering all the wrath of God, groaning,
gasping, dying soul this by faith I sometimes view and those views
relieve me but my sins return anew these are they that grieve
me oh I'm leprous, stinking, foul
quite throughout infected. Have not I, if any so, cause
to be dejected? Believer, think how loud thy
dying Lord cried out, It is finished! Treasure up that sacred word
whole and undiminished. Doubt not he will carry on to
its full perfection. That good work he has begun. Why then this dejection? So, faith, when void of works is
dead, This the scripture's witness. And what works have I to plead? Who am all unfitness? All my powers are depraved, blind,
perverse, and filthy. If from death I'm fully saved,
why am I not healthy? Believer, pour not on thyself
too long, lest it sink thee lower. Look to Jesus, kind as strong,
mercy joined with power. Every work that thou must do
will thy gracious Savior for the work and in me too of his
special favor. So, Jesus' precious blood once
spilt I depend on solely to release and clear my guilt but I would
be holy. Believer, He that bought thee
on the cross can control thy nature, fully purge away thy
dross, make thee a new creature. So, that he can, I nothing doubt,
be it but his pleasure. Believer, though it be not done
throughout, may it not in measure. Soul, when that measure, far
from great, still shall seem decreasing. Believer, faint not
then, but pray and wait, never, never ceasing. Soul, What when prayer meets no regard? Believer, still repeat it often. Soul, but I feel myself so hard. Believer, Jesus thee will soften. Soul, but my enemies make heads
Believer, let them closer drive thee. Soul, but I'm cold, I'm
dark, I'm dead. Believer, Jesus will revive thee. Newton, the flesh lusteth against
the spirit. Strange and mysterious is my
life. What opposites I feel within. A stable peace, a constant strife. The rule of grace, the power
of sin. Too often I am captive led, yet
often triumph in my head. I prize the privilege of prayer,
but oh, what backwardness to pray! Though on the Lord I cast
my care, I feel its burden every day. I'd seek His will in all
I do, yet find my own is working too. I call the promises my own, And
prize them more than mines of gold. Yet though their sweetness
I have known, They leave me unimpressed and cold. One hour upon the truth
I feed, The next I know not what to read. Thus different powers within
me strive, And grace and sin by turns prevail. I grieve, rejoice, decline, revive,
And victory hangs in doubtful scale. But Jesus has his promised past,
that grace shall overcome at last heart, election mighty enemies without much mightier
within thoughts we cannot quell or rot
Blasphemously obscene. Coldness, unbelief, and pride,
Hell and all its murderous train, Threaten death on every side,
And have their thousands slain. Thus pursued and thus distressed,
ah, whither shall we fly? To obtain the promised rest,
on what sure hand rely? Shall the Christian trust his
heart, that, alas, of foes the worst? always takes the tempter's
part, nay, often tempts him first. If today we be sincere, and can
both watch and pray, watchfulness perhaps and prayer, tomorrow
may decay If we now believe a right, faithfulness
in God's alone, we are feeble, fickle, light,
to changes ever prone. But we build upon a base that
nothing can remove. when we trust electing grace
and everlasting love. Victory over all our foes Christ
has given with his blood. Perseverance he bestows on every child of God. Kent, the everlasting love of
God. Twas an everlasting love that
God his own elect embraced before he made the worlds above or earth
on her huge columns Long ere the sun's refulgent
ray, Primeval shades of darkness drove, They on his sacred bosom lay,
Loved with an everlasting love. Then, in the glass of His decrees,
Christ and His Bride appeared as one. Her sin, by imputation
His, whilst She, in spotless splendor, shone. O Love, How high Thy glories swell! How great, immutable, and free! Ten thousand sins, as black as
hell, Are swallowed up, O Love, in Thee! Loved when a wretch defiled with
sin, At war with heaven, in league with hell, A slave to every lust
obscene, Who living lived but to rebel. Believer, here thy comfort stands,
from first to last salvation's free and everlasting love demands
an everlasting song from thee heart blessed is the man that
endureth a temptation And must it, Lord, be so? And must thy children bear Such
various kinds of woe, Such soul-perplexing fear? Are these the blessings
we expect? Is this the lot of God's elect? Boast not, ye sons of earth,
Nor look with scornful eyes Above your highest mirth Our saddest
hours we prize For though our cup seems filled with gall There's
something secret sweetens all How harsh so e'er the way Dear
Savior, still lead on, Nor leave us till we say, Father, thy will
be done. At most we do but taste the cup,
For thou alone hast drunk it up. Shall guilty man complain? Shall
sinful dust repine? And what is all our pain? How light compared with thine! Finish, dear Lord, what is begun. Choose thou the way. But still, lead on. Heart, the narrow way. Wide is the gate of death. The way is large and broad. And many enter in thereat and
walk that beaten road. Because the gate of life is narrow,
low, and small, The path so pressed, so close,
so straight, there seems no path at all. This way, that's found by few,
ten thousand snares be set, to turn the seeker's steps aside
and trap the traveler's feet. Before we've journeyed far, two
dangerous gulfs are fixed. Dead sloth and Pharisaic pride,
scarce a hare's breath be twixt. False lights delude the eyes
and lead the steps astray. That traveler treads the surest
here, that seldom sees his way. Guides cry, low here, low there,
on this, on that side keep. Some overdrive, some frighten
back, and others low to sleep. On the left hand and right, close
cragged rocks are seen. Distrust and self-wrought confidence,
tis hard to squeeze between. Sometimes we seem to gain great
lengths of ground by day. But find, alas, when night comes
on, we quite mistook the way. Sometimes we have no strength. Sometimes we want the will. And sometimes, lest we might
go wrong, we choose to stand quite still. Again, through heedless haste,
we catch some dangerous fall. Then, fearing we may move too
fast, we hardly move at all. Deep quagmires choke the way,
corruptions foul and thick, whose stench infects the air and makes
the strongest traveler sick. Through these we long must wade
and off stick fast in mire. Now heat consumes, now frost
be numbs, as dangerous as the fire. Specters of various forms allure,
enchant, affright. Presumption tempts us every day. Despair assaults by night. Companions, if we find, Alas,
how soon they're gone! For tis decreed that most must
pass The darkest paths alone. Distressed on every side, With
evil felt or feared, We pray, we cry, but cannot find that
prayers or cries are heard. Thickets of briars and thorns
our feeble feet enclose, and every step we take betrays new
dangers and new foes. When all these foes are quelled,
and every danger passed, that ghastly phantom death remains
to combat with at last. Second Part If this be, Lord, thy way, Then
who can hope to gain? That prize such numbers never
seek, Such numbers seek in vain? Tis thy almighty grace that can
suffice alone, Thou gift'st us strength to run the race, And
then bestow'st a crown. Cheer up, ye traveling souls,
on Jesus' aid rely. He sees us when we see Him not,
and always hears our cry. Without cessation pray. Your prayers will not prove vain. Our Joseph turns aside to weep,
but cannot long refrain. Sudden, he stands confessed. We look, and all is light. The foe, confounded, swift as
thought, sneaks off and skulks from sight. His presence cheers the soul
and smooths the rugged way. He often makes the crooked straight
and turns the night to day. We then move cheerful on. The ground feels firm and good. And last, we should mistake the
way. He lines it out with blood. Again, we cannot see his helping
hand, but feel. And though we neither feel nor
see, his hand sustains us still. He gently leads us on, protects
from fatal harms, and when we faint and cannot walk, He bears
us in His arms. He guides and moves our steps,
for though we seem to move, His spirit all the motion gives
By springs of fear and love The meet with love he draws Restrains
the rash by fear Searches and finds the wandering out And brings
the distant near. When for a time we stop, perplexed
and at a loss, he, like a beacon on a hill, erects his bloody
cross. Forward again we press, And while
that marks envy, Though hosts of foes beset the way, We boldly
venture through. When all these foes are quelled,
And every danger passed, Though death remains, but remains
to be subdued at last. Heart, Gethsemane. Jesus, while he dwelt below,
as divine historians say, to a place would often go Near to
Kedron's brook it lay. In this place he loved to be,
And t'was named Gethsemane. T'was a garden, as we read, At
the foot of Olipet. Low and proper to be made, The
Redeemer's lone retreat. when from noise he would be free. Then he sought Gethsemane. Thither by their master brought,
his disciples likewise came. There the heavenly truths he
taught often set their hearts on flame. Therefore they, as
well as he, visited Gethsemane. Here they oft conversing sat,
or might join with Christ in prayer. Oh, what blessed devotions
that, when the Lord himself is there, All things to them seemed to
agree, To endear Gethsemane. Here no strangers durst intrude,
But the Prince of Peace could sit, Cheered with sacred solitude, Yet how little could they see
Why he chose Gethsemane Full of love to man's lost race
On his conflict much he thought This he knew the destined place
And he loved that sacred spot Therefore, t'was he liked to
be often in Gethsemane. They, his followers, with the
rest, had incurred the wrath divine, and their Lord, with
pity pressed, longed to bear their loads. and mine. Love to them and love to me. Made him love Gethsemane. Many woes had he endured. Many sore temptations met. Patient and to pains inured. but the sorest trial yet was
to be sustained in thee, gloomy, sad Gethsemane. Came at length the dreadful night,
vengeance with its iron rod, stood and with collected might
bruised the harmless Lamb of God. See, my soul, thy Savior see,
groveling in Gethsemane. View Him in that olive press,
squeezed and wrung till whelmed in blood. View thy maker's deep
distress. Hear the sighs and groans of
God. Then reflect what sin must be. Gazing on Gethsemane. Poor disciples, tell me now. Where's the love ye lately had? Where's that faith ye all could
vow? But this hour is too, too sad. Tis not now for such as ye to
support Gethsemane. Oh, what wonders love has done! But how little understood! God knows well, and God alone
What produced that sweat of blood. Who can thy deep wonders see? Wonderful Gethsemane? There, my God bore all my guilt. This, through grace, can be believed. But the horrors which he felt
are too vast to be conceived. None can penetrate through thee,
doleful, dark Gethsemane. gloomy garden on thy beds, washed
by Kedron's waters foul. Grow, most rank and bitter weeds. Think on these, my sinful soul. Wouldst thou sin's dominion flee? Call to mind Gethsemane. Sinners vile like me and lost
if there's one so vile as I Leave more righteous souls to boast
leave them and to refuge fly We may well bless that decree
which ordained Gethsemane We can hope no healing hand. Leprous, quite, throughout with
sin. Loathed, incurables we stand. Crying out, unclean, unclean. Help, there's none for such as
we. But in dear Gethsemane, Eden from each flowery bed did
for man short sweetness breathe. Soon, by Satan's counsel led,
man wrought sin and sin wrought death. But of life, the healing
tree grows Enrich Gethsemane. Hither, Lord, thou didst resort,
Oft times with thy little train, Here wouldst keep thy private
court. O, confer that grace again! Lord, resort with worthless me,
oft times to Gethsemane. True, I can't deserve to share
in a fable so divine. But since sin first fixed thee
there, none have greater sins than mine. And to this my willful
plea, Witness thou, Gethsemane. Sins against a holy God, Sins
against His righteous loss, Sins against His love, His blood,
Sins against his name and cause. Sins immense as is the sea. Hide me, oh Gethsemane. Here's my claim, and here, alone, None a savior more can need. Deeds of righteousness I've none. No, not one good work to plead. Not a glimpse of hope for me. Only in Gethsemane. Savior, all the stone remove
from my flimsy, frozen heart. Thaw it with the beams of love. Pierce it with the blood-dipped
dart. Wound the heart that wounded
thee. Melt it in Gethsemane. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
one almighty God of love, hymned by all the heavenly host in the
shining courts above, we poor sinners, gracious three, bless thee for Gethsemane. Kelly, King of Kings and Lord
of Lords. Look, ye Saints, the sight is
glorious. See the exalted Savior now. From the fight returned victorious. Every knee to Him shall bow! Crown Him! Crown Him! Crowns become the victor's brow! Crown the Savior! Saints adore
Him! Rich the trophies Jesus brings! Saints and angels bow before
Him! while the vault of heaven rings. Crown Him, crown Him, crown the
Savior, King of Kings. Hark, those bursts of acclamation. Hark, those loud, triumphant
chords. Jesus takes the highest station. Oh, what joy the sight affords! Crown Him, crown Him, King of
kings and Lord of lords. E perone, Jesus Christ, Lord
of all. all hail the power of Jesus name
let angels prostrate fall bring forth the royal diadem and crown
him Lord of all ye souls redeemed of gentile
race ye ransomed from the fall Hail Him who saves you by His
grace, and crown Him Lord of all. Let every kindred, every tribe,
throughout this earthly ball, to Him, O Majesty, ascribe, and
crown Him Lord of all. We too, amid the sacred throng,
low at His feet would fall. Join in the everlasting song
and crown Him Lord of all.