Jon_1:16
When men are saved from destruction they are bound to give glory unto God, both with words and gifts. Let us at this time honour the Lord by our songs and our thank-offerings, for he alone is the Rock of our salvation.
How shall I praise th’ eternal God,
That infinite Unknown?
Who can ascend his high abode,
Or venture near his throne?
Sinners before his presence die;
How holy is his name!
His anger and his jealousy
Burn like devouring flame.
Justice upon a dreadful throne
Maintains the rights of God;
While mercy sends her pardons down,
Bought with a Saviour’s blood.
Come, ye that love the Saviour’s name,
And joy to make it known;
The Sovereign of your heart proclaim,
And bow before his throne.
Lo he on David’s ancient throne,
His power and grace displays,
While Salem with its echoing hills,
Sends forth the voice of praise.
Sing, ye redeem’d! Before the throne,
Ye white-robed myriads fall;
Sing, for the Lord of glory reigns,
The Christ, the heir of all.
To the Lord we all things owe,
To the Lord we love to give:
Day by day his mercies flow,
Day by day to him we’ll live.
Thus we sanctify our store
Cleanse the canker from our gold;
And the Lord returns us more,
Fifty and a hundredfold.
Our best offering is small,
But in condescending love,
He who is the Lord of all
Smiles upon it from above.
Never leave us, nor forsake us,
Thou on whom our souls rely,
Till thou shalt for ever take us
To behold that glory nigh;
Which, though distant,
Fills thy people’s hearts with joy.
All our strength at once would fail us,
If deserted, Lord, by thee;
Nothing then could aught avail us,
Certain our defeat would be:
Those who hate us
Thenceforth their desire would see.
But we look to thee as able,
Grace to give in time of need:
Heaven we know is not more stable,
Than the promise which we plead:
‘
Tis thy promise
Gives thy people hope indeed.
Could I so false, so faithless prove,
To quit thy service and thy love;
Where, Lord, could I thy presence shun,
Or from thy dreadful glory run?
If mounted on a morning ray
I fly beyond the Western sea,
Thy swifter hand would first arrive,
And there arrest thy fugitive.
O may these thoughts possess my breast
Where’er I rove, where’er I rest!
Nor let my weaker passions dare
Consent to sin, for God is there.
From a heart by sin deceivèd,
Bent with froward will, to take
Its own downward course of madness,
Save us for thy mercies’ sake.
From a soul whose deathlike slumber
Will not at thy voice awake,
But sleep on, nor heed its danger,
Save us for thy mercies’ sake.
Evening
