Newton and Baxter....
Bitter and Sweet
by John Newton
1 Kindle, Saviour, in my heart,
A flame of love divine;
Hear, for mine I trust thou art,
And sure I would be thine;
If my soul has felt thy grace,
If to me thy name is known;
Why should trifles fill the place
Due to thyself alone?
2 'Tis a strange mysterious life
I live from day to day;
Light and darkness, peace and strife,
Bear an alternate sway:
When I think the battle won,
I have to fight it o'er again;
When I say I'm overthrown,
Relief I soon obtain.
3 Often at the mercy-seat,
While calling on thy name,
Swarms of evil thoughts I meet,
Which fill my soul with shame.
Agitated in my mind,
Like a feather in the air,
Can I thus a blessing find?
My soul, can this be pray'r?
4 But when Christ, my Lord and Friend,
Is pleas'd to show his pow'r
All at once my troubles end,
And I've a golden hour;
Then I see his smiling face,
Feel the pledge of joys to come:
Often, Lord, repeat this grace
Till thou shalt call me home.
by John Newton
1 Kindle, Saviour, in my heart,
A flame of love divine;
Hear, for mine I trust thou art,
And sure I would be thine;
If my soul has felt thy grace,
If to me thy name is known;
Why should trifles fill the place
Due to thyself alone?
2 'Tis a strange mysterious life
I live from day to day;
Light and darkness, peace and strife,
Bear an alternate sway:
When I think the battle won,
I have to fight it o'er again;
When I say I'm overthrown,
Relief I soon obtain.
3 Often at the mercy-seat,
While calling on thy name,
Swarms of evil thoughts I meet,
Which fill my soul with shame.
Agitated in my mind,
Like a feather in the air,
Can I thus a blessing find?
My soul, can this be pray'r?
4 But when Christ, my Lord and Friend,
Is pleas'd to show his pow'r
All at once my troubles end,
And I've a golden hour;
Then I see his smiling face,
Feel the pledge of joys to come:
Often, Lord, repeat this grace
Till thou shalt call me home.
A Psalm of Praise
by Richard Baxter (Excerpts)
Ye holy Angels bright,
by Richard Baxter (Excerpts)
Ye holy Angels bright,
Which stand before God's throne,
And dwell in glorious light,
Praise ye the Lord each one.
You there so nigh
Are much more meet
Than we the feet,
For things so high.
You blessed souls at rest
You blessed souls at rest
That see your Saviour's face,
Whose glory, even the least,
Is far above our grace;
God's praises sound,
As in his sight
With sweet delight
You do abound.
All nations of the earth,
All nations of the earth,
Extol the world's great King;
With melody and mirth
His glorious praises sing.
For he still reigns;
And will bring low
The proudest foe
That him disdains.
Sing forth Jehovah's praise,
Sing forth Jehovah's praise,
Ye saints that on him call;
Magnify him always;
His holy churches all
In him rejoice;
And there proclaim
His Holy Name
With sounding voice.
My soul, bear thou thy part!
My soul, bear thou thy part!
Triumph in God above!
With a well-tuned heart
Sing thou the songs of love.
Thou art his own
Whose precious blood,
Shed for thy good,
His love made known.
Though human help depart
Though human help depart
And flesh draw near to dust,
Let Faith keep up my heart
To love God true and just;
And all my days
Let no disease
Cause me to cease
His joyful praise.
Though sin would make me doubt,
Though sin would make me doubt,
And fill my soul with fears,
Though God seem to shut out
My daily cries and tears,
By no such frost
Of sad delays
Let thy sweet praise
Be nipped and lost.
Away, distrustful care!
Away, distrustful care!
I have thy promise, Lord.
To banish all despair,
I have thy oath and word.
And therefore I
Shall see thy face,
And there thy grace
Shall magnify.
Though sin and death conspire
Though sin and death conspire
To rob thee of thy praise,
Still towards thee I'll aspire,
And thou dull hearts canst raise.
Open thy door;
And when grim death
Shall stop this breath
I'll praise thee more.
With thy triumphant flock
With thy triumphant flock
Then I shall numbered be;
Built on the eternal rock
His glory we shall see.
The heavens so high
With praise shall ring.
And all shall sing
In harmony.
The sun is but a spark
The sun is but a spark
From the eternal light;
Its brightest beams are dark
To that most glorious sight.
There the whole Chore
With one accord
Shall praise the Lord
For evermore.
