1. |
Ye Servants of God
02:15
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Ye servants of God, your master proclaim,
and publish abroad his wonderful name;
the name, all victorious, of Jesus extol;
his kingdom is glorious and rules over all.
God ruleth on high, almighty to save,
and still he is nigh—his presence we have.
The great congregation his triumph shall sing,
ascribing salvation to Jesus, our King.
“Salvation to God, who sits on the throne!”
let all cry aloud and honour the Son.
The praises of Jesus the angels proclaim,
fall down on their faces and worship the Lamb.
Then let us adore and give him his right,
all glory and power, all wisdom and might,
all honour and blessing, with angels above,
and thanks never ceasing for infinite love.
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2. |
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I thirst, thou wounded Lamb of God,
to wash me in thy cleansing blood,
to dwell within thy wounds; then
pain is sweet, and life or death is gain.
Take my poor heart and let it be
forever closed to all but thee!
Seal thou my breast and let me wear
that pledge of love forever there.
How blest are they who still abide
close sheltered in thy bleeding side,
who life and strength from thence derive,
and by thee move, and in thee live.
What are our works but sin and death
'til thou thy quick’ning Spirit breathe?
Thou giv’st the power thy grace to move;
0 wondrous grace! 0 boundless love!
Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow,
our words are lost, nor will we know,
nor will we think of ought beside
my Lord, my Love, is crucified.
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3. |
The Lamb's High Banquet
04:19
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The Lamb's high banquet we await
in snow-white robes of royal state,
and now, the Red Sea's channel passed,
to Christ, our Prince, we sing at last.
Upon the altar of the cross,
his body hath redeemed our loss,
and tasting of his roseate blood,
our life is hid with him in God.
That paschal eve God's arm was bared;
the devastating angel spared:
by strength of hand our hosts went free
from Pharaoh's ruthless tyranny.
Now Christ, our paschal Lamb, is slain,
the Lamb of God that knows no stain,
the true oblation offered here,
our own unleavened bread sincere.
O thou from whom hell's monarch flies,
O great, O very sacrifice,
thy captive people are set free,
and endless life restored in thee.
For Christ, arising from the dead,
from conquered hell victorious sped,
and thrust the tyrant down to chains,
and paradise for man regains.
We pray thee, King with glory decked,
in this, our paschal joy, protect
from all that death would fain effect
thy ransomed flock, thine own elect.
To thee who, dead, again dost live,
all glory, Lord, thy people give,
all glory, as is every meet,
to Father and to Paraclete.
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4. |
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O holy Saviour, friend unseen,
since on thine arm thou bidd'st me lean,
help me, throughout life's changing scene,
by faith to cling to thee.
What though the world deceitful prove,
and earthly friends and hopes remove,
with patient, uncomplaining love,
still would I cling to thee.
Though oft I seem to tread alone
life's dreary waste, with thorns o'ergrown,
thy voice of love, in gentlest tone,
still whispers, ''Cling to me!''
Though faith and hope may long be tried,
I ask not, need not, aught beside;
how safe, how calm, how satisfied
the soul that clings to thee.
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5. |
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Come, my soul, thy suit prepare:
Jesus loves to answer prayer;
he himself has bid thee pray,
therefore will not say thee nay.
Thou art coming to a King,
large petitions with thee bring;
for his grace and pow'r are such,
none can ever ask too much.
With my burden I begin:
“Lord, remove this load of sin;
let thy blood, for sinners spilt,
set my conscience free from guilt.
“Lord, I come to thee for rest,
take possession of my breast;
there thy blood-bought right maintain,
and without a rival reign.
“While I am a pilgrim here,
let thy love my spirit cheer;
as my guide, my guard, my friend,
lead me to my journey's end.
“Show me what I have to do,
ev'ry hour my strength renew:
let me live a life of faith,
let me die thy people's death.”
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6. |
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Praise the Saviour now and ever;
praise him, all beneath the skies;
prostrate lying, suffering, dying
on the cross, a sacrifice.
Victory gaining, life obtaining,
now in glory he doth rise.
Sin’s bond severed, we’re delivered;
Christ has bruised the serpent’s head;
death no longer is the stronger;
hell itself is captive led.
Christ has risen from death’s prison;
o’er the tomb he light has shed.
Man’s work faileth, Christ’s availeth;
he is all our righteousness;
he, our Saviour, has forever
set us free from dire distress.
Through his merit we inherit
light and peace and happiness.
For his favour, praise forever
unto God the Father sing;
praise the Saviour, praise him ever,
Son of God, our Lord and King.
Praise the Spirit; through Christ’s merit
he doth us salvation bring.
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7. |
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All the way my Saviour leads me;
what have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt his tender mercy,
who through life has been my guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
here by faith in him to dwell;
for I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.
All the way my Saviour leads me,
cheers each winding path I tread,
gives me grace for every trial,
feeds me with the living bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
and my soul athirst may be,
gushing from the rock before me,
lo, a spring of joy I see!
All the way my Saviour leads me—
O the fullness of his love!
Perfect rest to me is promised
in my Father’s house above:
when my spirit, clothed immortal,
wings its flight to realms of day,
this my song through endless ages:
Jesus led me all the way.
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8. |
My Song Is Love Unknown
07:23
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My song is love unknown,
my Saviour’s love to me,
love to the loveless shown
that they might lovely be.
O who am I, that for my sake
my Lord should take frail flesh and die?
He came from his blest throne
salvation to bestow
but we cared not, and none
the longed-for Christ would know.
But O, my Friend, my Friend indeed,
who at my need his life did spend!
Sometimes we strew his way
and his sweet praises sing,
resounding all the day
hosannas to our King.
Then “Crucify!” is all our breath,
and for his death we thirst and cry.
Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage and spite?
He made the lame to run,
he gave the blind their sight.
Sweet injuries! Yet all his deeds
our hatred feeds; we ’gainst him rise.
We rise and needs will have
my dear Lord made away;
a murderer we save,
the Prince of life we slay.
Yet willing he to suff’ring goes,
that he his foes from thence might free.
In life, no house, no home
my Lord on earth might have;
in death, no friendly tomb
but what a stranger gave.
What may I say? Heav’n was his home,
but mine the tomb wherein he lay.
Here might I stay and sing,
no story so divine;
never was love, dear King,
never was grief like thine.
This is my Friend, in whose sweet praise
I all my days could gladly spend.
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