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Entries in Sunday (29)

Sunday
Sep102017

Oh God, You Are My God

I'm continuing to enjoy Fernando Ortega's recording The Shadow of Your Wings. This is a short song, based on Psalm 63. It is a wonderful example of how one can set the Psalms to music.

Oh God, you are my God
Earnestly I seek you
My sould thirsts for you
My flesh yearns for you
In a dry and weary land
Where there is no water

I remember you at night
Through the watches of the night
In the shadow of your wings
I sing because you helped me
My soul clings to you
And your hand upholds me
You alone

Sunday
Jun072015

Prayer for children

From the Olney Hymns
Prayer For Children
William Cowper 

Gracious Lord, our children see,
By thy mercy we are free;
But shall these, alas! remain
Subjects still of Satan’s reign?
Israel’s young ones, when of old
Pharaoh threatened to withhold;

Then thy messenger said,
“No; Let the children also go.” 

When the angel of the Lord
Drawing forth his dreadful sword,
Slew, with an avenging hand,
All the first–born of the land:

Then thy peoples’ doors he passed,
Where the bloody sign was placed;
Hear us, now, upon our knees,
Plead the blood of CHRIST for these!

LORD we tremble, for we know
How the fierce malicious foe;
Wheeling round his watchful flight,
Keeps them ever in his sight:
Spread thy pinions, King of kings!
Hide them safe beneath thy wings;
Lest the rav’nous bird of prey
Stoop, and bear the brood away. 

Sunday
Apr192015

The House of Prayer

From the Olney Hymns
Hymn 96, William Cowper

 

Thy mansion is the christian’s heart,
O LORD, thy dwelling–place secure!
Bid the unruly throng depart,
And leave the consecrated door.

Devoted as it is to thee,
A thievish swarm frequents the place;
They steal away my joys from me,
And rob my Savior of his praise.

There too a sharp designing trade Sin,
Satan, and the world, maintain;
Nor cease to press me, and persuade,
To part with ease and purchase pain.

I know them, and I hate their din,
Am weary of the bustling crowd;
But while their voice is heard within,
I cannot serve thee as I would.

O! for the joy thy presence gives,
What peace shall reign when thou art here!
Thy presence makes this den of thieves,
A calm delightful house of prayer.

And if thou make thy temple thine,
Yet, self–abased, will I adore;
The gold and silver are not mine,
I give thee what was thine before. 

Sunday
Apr122015

Deep-wrought furrows

From the Olney Hymns
Hymn 85, William Cowper
The Sower
 

Ye sons of earth prepare the plow,
Break up your fallow ground!
The Sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.

The seed that finds a stony soil,
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower’s toil,
Soon withered, scorched, and dead.

The thorny ground is sure to baulk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.

The beaten path and highway side
Receive the trust in vain
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.

But where the Lord of grace and pow’r
Has blessed the happy field;
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep–wrought furrows yield!

Father of mercies we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same hand that gives the seed,
Provide a fruitful place. 

Sunday
Mar292015

Praise For the Fountain Opened

From The Olney Hymns
William Cowper
Hymn 79, Praise For the Fountain Opened 

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from EMMANUEL’S veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there have I, as vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow’r;
Till all the ransomed church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply:
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler sweeter song
I’ll sing thy pow’r to save
When this poor lisping stamm’ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe thou hast prepared
(Unworthy though I be)
For me a blood–bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!

’Tis strung, and tuned, for endless years,
And formed by pow’r divine;
To sound, in God the Father’s ears,
No other name but thine.