"The Lord is King," a hymn by Josiah Conder

It's been a long time since I've posted anything, and it would not be fair to call this a "hymn of the week," but it is a gorgeous hymn proclaiming the sovereignty and power of the Lord of Glory, and I thought it was worth sharing.

The Lord is King
By: Josiah Conder

The Lord is King! lift up thy voice,
O earth; and all ye heav’ns, rejoice!
From world to world the joy shall ring,
“The Lord omnipotent is King.”

The Lord is King! who then shall dare
Resist His will, distrust His care,
Or murmur at His wise decrees,
Or doubt His royal promises?

The Lord is King! Child of the dust,
The Judge of all the earth is just;
Holy and true are all His ways;
Let every creature speak His praise.

O when His wisdom can mistake,
His might decay, His love forsake,
Then may His children cease to sing,
“The Lord omnipotent is King!”

Alike pervaded by His eye,
All parts of His dominion lie;
This world of ours, and worlds unseen,
And thin the boundary between.

He reigns! ye saints, exalt your strains;
Your God is King, your Father reigns;
And He is at the Father’s side,
The Man of love, the Crucified.

Come, make your wants, your burdens known;
He will present them at the throne;
And angel bands are waiting there
His messages of love to bear.

One Lord, one empire, all secures;
He reigns, and life and death are yours:
Through earth and Heav’n shall ring,
“The Lord omnipotent is King!”

A Thanksgiving Hymn

This is all reposted from the Indeliblog. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
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In honor of Thanksgiving I thought I would post this background to a great Thanksgiving hymn “Now Thank We All Our God” by Martin Rinkart (A 17th century German hymnwriter). The following is from Catherine Winkworth’s “Christian SIngers Of Germnay.” She is the one who translated the hymn in the 19th century.

This classic hymn was written by a pastor (Martin Rinkart) who suffered greatly through the 30 Years War in Germany during which (through war and famine) 4/5 of the population of Germany died. He himself was in extreme poverty and when the pastors of his 2 neighboring towns died he ended up having to do the work of 3 pastors, burying 4,000 people in 1637 (50 per day!) - including his wife - when the plague hit. This was followed by a famine so severe that 30-40 people could be seen in streets fighting to the death over the corpse of a dead cat. And then right after this the Swedes invaded and demanded a ridiculous amount of money in tribute. The story goes that he went to intercede with the Swedish commander to reduce the tribute and the commander refused. At this point Rinkart turned to the crowd that was with him and said “Come my children, we can find no hearing, no mercy with men. Let us take refuge with God.” he then fell to his knees and prayed with such pathos that the commander reduced the tribute from $30,000 to $2,000. He wrote this hymn in 1644, 4 years before the Peace of Westphalia that ended the War in 1648.

Here is the text:

Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things has done, in Whom this world rejoices;
Who from our mothers’ arms has blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

O may this bounteous God through all our life be near us,
With ever joyful hearts and blessèd peace to cheer us;
And keep us in His grace, and guide us when perplexed;
And free us from all ills, in this world and the next!

All praise and thanks to God the Father now be given;
The Son and Him Who reigns with Them in highest Heaven;
The one eternal God, whom earth and Heaven adore;
For thus it was, is now, and shall be evermore.

"A Mighty Fortress is Our God" -- Mikes Hymn o' the week for Friday, Nov. 1, 2007

In honor of the recently-passed Reformation Day, I present what many have called The Battle Hymn of the Reformation, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God," by Martin Luther (tr. by Frederic H. Hedge).

A Mighty Fortress is Our God
by Martin Luther

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.

"Who is This?" -- A hymn

I realize I have been extremely poor at blogging lately. The only excuse I can make is a decided lack of time. Even now, I should be studying for my topology exam on Friday night, but there is a hymn I want to share very badly, so I'll get right onto it.

The hymn is called "Who is This (So Weak and Helpless)?" and it is lyrically magnificent (I must also put a plug in for Sandra McCracken's performance of it on the Indelible Grace IV: Beams of Heaven CD...it's wonderful). This is one of the most profoundly Christological hymns that I can think of, and lays out quite clearly the idea of the infinite almighty God taking on human flesh, that the man "who hangeth dying while the rude world scoffs and scorns" is, in fact, "the God who ever liveth 'mid the shining ones on high"; the man "despised, rejected, mocked, insulted, beaten, bound" is our God, who "shall smite in righteous judgment all His foes beneath His throne." The way the first half of each verse describes a limitation of the human and the second half of the verse so clearly illustrates the way in which our God is so utterly perfect is one fantastic example of why I love hymns so much, and what deep theology we're NOT learning from much (though not all) of what is being written and sung today.

Who Is This (So Weak and Helpless)?
By William W. How

Who is this so weak and helpless, Child of lowly Hebrew maid,
Rudely in a stable sheltered, coldly in a manger laid?
’Tis the Lord of all creation, who this wondrous path hath trod;
He is God from everlasting, and to everlasting God.

Who is this, a Man of sorrows, walking sadly life’s hard way,
Homeless, weary, sighing, weeping, over sin and Satan’s sway?
’Tis our God, our glorious Savior, who above the starry sky
Now for us a place prepareth, where no tear can dim the eye.

Who is this? Behold Him shedding drops of blood upon the ground!
Who is this, despised, rejected, mocked, insulted, beaten, bound?
’Tis our God, who gifts and graces on His church now poureth down;
Who shall smite in righteous judgment all His foes beneath His throne.

Who is this that hangeth dying while the rude world scoffs and scorns,
Numbered with the malefactors, torn with nails, and crowned with thorns?
’Tis the God Who ever liveth, ’mid the shining ones on high,
In the glorious golden city, reigning everlastingly.

"O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week for Friday, September 28, 2007

I love how even old, familiar hymns sung in new ways or new contexts seem to feel brand-new again. Last night at the weekly meeting for Campus Crusade for Christ, our speaker spoke on 2 Samuel 9. I was as shocked as anyone to hear a speaker at CRU speak on an OT text. :) But it's a very beautiful story of David as king remembering his covenant with Jonathan and showing kindness to Jonathan's son, Mephibosheth, who was lame in both feet.

Anyway, our speaker closed by having us sing a few verses of this old hymn of Wesley's, the lyrics of which are printed below, and come courtesy of CyberHymnal.org. Seriously, that website rocks.

O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing
Words by Charles Wesley

O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of Thy name.

Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
’Tis music in the sinner’s ears,
’Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of canceled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood availed for me.

He speaks, and, listening to His voice,
New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.

Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.

In Christ your Head, you then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.

Glory to God, and praise and love
Be ever, ever given,
By saints below and saints above,
The church in earth and heaven.

On this glad day the glorious Sun
Of Righteousness arose;
On my benighted soul He shone
And filled it with repose.

Sudden expired the legal strife,
’Twas then I ceased to grieve;
My second, real, living life
I then began to live.

Then with my heart I first believed,
Believed with faith divine,
Power with the Holy Ghost received
To call the Savior mine.

I felt my Lord’s atoning blood
Close to my soul applied;
Me, me He loved, the Son of God,
For me, for me He died!

I found and owned His promise true,
Ascertained of my part,
My pardon passed in heaven I knew
When written on my heart.

Look unto Him, ye nations, own
Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.

See all your sins on Jesus laid:
The Lamb of God was slain,
His soul was once an offering made
For every soul of man.

Awake from guilty nature’s sleep,
And Christ shall give you light,
Cast all your sins into the deep,
And wash the Æthiop white.

Harlots and publicans and thieves
In holy triumph join!
Saved is the sinner that believes
From crimes as great as mine.

Murderers and all ye hellish crew
In holy triumph join!
Believe the Savior died for you;
For me the Savior died.

With me, your chief, ye then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.

"Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise" -- Mikes Hymn o' the Week for Friday, September 14, 2007

This week's hymn is "Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise." I recall singing this hymn growing up in the LCMS; it was one of the hymns I looked forward to singing, because I appreciated the melody. Now that I'm (a little) older, I really appreciate the lyrical depth, as Smith draws together so many different and varied attributes of God and weaves them together unto His Glory.

Enjoy the words of Walter Smith.

Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise
By: Walter C. Smith

Immortal, invisible, God only wise,
In light inaccessible hid from our eyes,
Most blessèd, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,
Almighty, victorious, Thy great Name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,
Nor wanting, nor wasting, Thou rulest in might;
Thy justice, like mountains, high soaring above
Thy clouds, which are fountains of goodness and love.

To all, life Thou givest, to both great and small;
In all life Thou livest, the true life of all;
We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,
And wither and perish—but naught changeth Thee.

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,
Thine angels adore Thee, all veiling their sight;
But of all Thy rich graces this grace, Lord, impart
Take the veil from our faces, the vile from our heart.

All laud we would render; O help us to see
’Tis only the splendor of light hideth Thee,
And so let Thy glory, Almighty, impart,
Through Christ in His story, Thy Christ to the heart.

"How Can I Keep From Singing?" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week for Friday, September 7, 2007

Sorry I didn't get this out earlier. Things have been crazy around here with the start of school, and getting into a minor car accident the other night, and suchlike. I hope to return to the blogosphere in full force very soon. Until then, I give you the following hymn. This one is different in that I have never actually sung it or heard it sung; the words are enough to move me, though, and that, I think, is the true beauty of hymns--it's in their lyrical content. Yes, of course the music is good, and in many ways exemplifies what modern music is lacking. But it's the lyrics that teach us good, true, beautiful things about God and ourselves and how we relate to God and the world around us. It is in that very sense that Lowry's words are beautiful to me even though I lack the musical experience of singing the song.

How Can I Keep From Singing?
By Robert Lowry

My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation
I hear the sweet though far off hymn
That hails a new creation:
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?

What though my joys and comforts die?
The Lord my Savior liveth;
What though the darkness gather round!
Songs in the night He giveth:
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging;
Since Christ is Lord of Heav’n and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

I lift mine eyes; the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway smooths
Since first I learned to love it:
The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing:
All things are mine since I am His—
How can I keep from singing?

"Not What My Hands Have Done" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week for Friday, August 31, 2007

I hope to put some content that is not a hymn up here sometime soon, but no promises. School has started, and I am busy. I need to figure out how my schedule will shake out....

Anyway, this week's hymn is "Not What My Hands Have Done," which again comes to me via the Indelible Grace project. It's a wonderful reminder of our utter inability to save ourselves before the God of the Universe. We rest entirely on His grace and His love for our faith: " ’Tis He Who saveth me, and freely pardon gives; I love because He loveth me, I live because He lives."

At any rate, here is the hymn text.

Not What My Hands Have Done
By Horatius Bonar

Not what my hands have done can save my guilty soul;
Not what my toiling flesh has borne can make my spirit whole.
Not what I feel or do can give me peace with God;
Not all my prayers and sighs and tears can bear my awful load.

Your voice alone, O Lord, can speak to me of grace;
Your power alone, O Son of God, can all my sin erase.
No other work but Yours, no other blood will do;
No strength but that which is divine can bear me safely through.

Thy work alone, O Christ, can ease this weight of sin;
Thy blood alone, O Lamb of God, can give me peace within.
Thy love to me, O God, not mine, O Lord, to Thee,
Can rid me of this dark unrest, And set my spirit free.

I bless the Christ of God; I rest on love divine;
And with unfaltering lip and heart I call this Savior mine.
His cross dispels each doubt; I bury in His tomb
Each thought of unbelief and fear, each lingering shade of gloom.

I praise the God of grace; I trust His truth and might;
He calls me His, I call Him mine, My God, my joy and light.
’Tis He Who saveth me, and freely pardon gives;
I love because He loveth me, I live because He lives.

"O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go" -- Mikes Hymn o' the Week for Friday, August 24, 2007

Here is another fantastic hymn from the Indelible Grace project. I'll let the words speak for themselves.

O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go
By George Matheson

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

"The Sands of Tme are Sinking" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week for Friday, August 17, 2007

I apologize for missing last week. Jordan and I were camping in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park; I had intended to post early, and then simply ran out of time.

This week's hymn is, "The Sands of Time are Sinking" -- it's probably my current favorite. Again, it was introduced to me via the Indelible Grace project (I've italicized the verses appearing in their version for the interested reader), and it speaks in beautiful language of the coming glory of the new heavens and new earth, and how the beauty of that place will be the glory of the Lamb: "not at the crown he giveth, but on His pierced hand/the Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel's land."

The Sands of Time are Sinking
By: Anne R. Cousin

The sands of time are sinking, the dawn of Heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for—the fair, sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight, but dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

O Christ, He is the fountain, the deep, sweet well of love!
The streams of earth I’ve tasted more deep I’ll drink above:
There to an ocean fullness His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Oh! Well it is forever, Oh! well forevermore,
My nest hung in no forest of all this death doomed shore:
Yea, let the vain world vanish, as from the ship the strand,
While glory—glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

There the Red Rose of Sharon unfolds its heartsome bloom
And fills the air of heaven with ravishing perfume:
Oh! To behold it blossom, while by its fragrance fanned
Where glory—glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

The King there in His beauty, without a veil is seen:
It were a well spent journey, though seven deaths lay between:
The Lamb with His fair army, doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory—glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Oft in yon sea beat prison My Lord and I held tryst,
For Anwoth was not heaven, and preaching was not Christ:
And aye, my murkiest storm cloud was by a rainbow spanned,
Caught from the glory dwelling in Immanuel’s land.

But that He built a Heaven of His surpassing love,
A little new Jerusalem, like to the one above,
“Lord take me over the water” hath been my loud demand,
Take me to my love’s own country, unto Immanuel’s land.

But flowers need nights cool darkness, the moonlight and the dew;
So Christ, from one who loved it, His shining oft withdrew:
And then, for cause of absence my troubled soul I scanned
But glory shadeless shineth in Immanuel’s land.

The little birds of Anwoth, I used to count them blessed,
Now, beside happier altars I go to build my nest:
Over these there broods no silence, no graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless, dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Fair Anwoth by the Solway, to me thou still art dear,
Even from the verge of heaven, I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! If one soul from Anwoth meet me at God’s right hand,
My heaven will be two heavens, In Immanuel’s land.

I’ve wrestled on towards Heaven, against storm and wind and tide,
Now, like a weary traveler that leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening, while sinks life’s lingering sand,
I hail the glory dawning from Immanuel’s land.

Deep waters crossed life’s pathway, the hedge of thorns was sharp;
Now, these lie all behind me Oh! for a well tuned harp!
Oh! To join hallelujah with yon triumphant band,
Who sing where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

With mercy and with judgment my web of time He wove,
And aye, the dews of sorrow were lustered with His love;
I’ll bless the hand that guided, I’ll bless the heart that planned
When throned where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

Soon shall the cup of glory wash down earth’s bitterest woes,
Soon shall the desert briar break into Eden’s rose;
The curse shall change to blessing the name on earth that’s banned
Be graven on the white stone in Immanuel’s land.

O I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved’s mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner into His “house of wine.”
I stand upon His merit—I know no other stand,
Not even where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

I shall sleep sound in Jesus, filled with His likeness rise,
To love and to adore Him, to see Him with these eyes:
’Tween me and resurrection but Paradise doth stand;
Then—then for glory dwelling in Immanuel’s land.

The Bride eyes not her garment, but her dear Bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory but on my King of grace.
Not at the crown He giveth but on His pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel’s land.

I have borne scorn and hatred, I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth’s proud ones have reproached me for Christ’s thrice blessed Name:
Where God His seal set fairest they’ve stamped the foulest brand,
But judgment shines like noonday in Immanuel’s land.

They’ve summoned me before them, but there I may not come,
My Lord says “Come up hither,” My Lord says “Welcome home!”
My King, at His white throne, my presence doth command
Where glory—glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

"Jesus, I Come" -- Mikes Hymn o' the Week for Friday, August 3, 2007

This week's hymn is "Jesus I Come," by William T. Sleeper. It's one that's been on my mind for a few weeks now. Enjoy Sleeper's words!

Jesus, I Come
By: William T. Sleeper

Out of my bondage, sorrow, and night,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into Thy freedom, gladness, and light,
Jesus, I come to Thee;
Out of my sickness, into Thy health,
Out of my want and into Thy wealth,
Out of my sin and into Thyself,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of my shameful failure and loss,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into the glorious gain of Thy cross,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of earth’s sorrows into Thy balm,
Out of life’s storms and into Thy calm,
Out of distress to jubilant psalm,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of unrest and arrogant pride,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into Thy blessèd will to abide,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,
Out of despair into raptures above,
Upward for aye on wings like a dove,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of the fear and dread of the tomb,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into the joy and light of Thy throne,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of the depths of ruin untold,
Into the peace of Thy sheltering fold,
Ever Thy glorious face to behold,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

"The Lord Will Provide" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week for Friday, July 27, 2007

This week's hymn is "The Lord Will Provide," by John Newton. It must be one of Newton's lesser-known (certainly lesser-known than "Amazing Grace"). A cursory Google search did not yield the full set of lyrics. I should say, I have usually been getting them from CyberHymnal.org, and there is a hymn there entitled, "The Lord Will Provide," but it is not this one. Instead, it comes to me via Matthew Smith's CD, "All I Owe" (and its liner notes).

The song as whole is a great testament to the Christian's life, lived dependent wholly on God. The most beautiful part of the song for me is the very last line: "We hope to die shouting the Lord will provide". It puts a tear in my eye as I pray that it will be true of me. A man whose life ends shouting, "the Lord will provide" is a man whose life was lived by that philosophy, who has no fears, doubts, or regrets, but instead knows that his Lord will welcome him with open arms into Paradise. May it be true of each of us, that we die shouting, "the Lord will provide!"

The Lord Will Provide
by John Newton

Though troubles assail and dangers affright,
Though friends should all fail and foes all unite;
Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide,
The scripture assures us, the Lord will provide

The birds without barn or storehouse are fed,
From them let us learn to trust for our bread:
His saints, what is fitting, shall ne'er be denied,
So long as it's written, the Lord will provide

We may, like the ships, by the tempest be tossed
On perilous deeps, but cannot be lost.
Though Satan enrages the wind and the tide,
The promise engages, the Lord will provide.

His call we obey, like Abram of old,
Not knowing our way, but faith makes us bold;
For though we are strangers we have a good Guide,
And trust in all dangers, the Lord will provide

When Satan appears to stop up our path,
And fill us with fears, we triumph by faith;
He cannot take from us, though oft he has tried,
This heart-cheering promise, the Lord will provide

He tells us we're weak, our hope is in vain,
The good that we seek we ne'er shall obtain,
But when such suggestions our spirits have plied,
This answers all questions, the Lord will provide

No strength of our own, or goodness we claim,
Yet since we have known the Savior's great name;
In this our strong tower for safety we hide,
The Lord is our power, the Lord will provide

When life sinks apace and death is in view,
This word of his grace shall comfort us through:
No fearing or doubting with Christ on our side,
We hope to die shouting the Lord will provide

"The Church's One Foundation" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week, Friday, July 20, 2007

This week's hymn for contemplation is "The Church's One Foundation," words by Samuel A. Stone. If ever there is a good old Reformed hymn, this is it (actually, there may be others that are better, but there are great examples of Reformed theology in here). Aside from that, it is a wonderful song of the Church and her relationship to the Godhead.

But hey, I'll stop blabbing and let the hymn speak for itself.

The Church's One Foundation
By: Samuel A. Stone

The Church’s one foundation
Is Jesus Christ her Lord,
She is His new creation
By water and the Word.
From heaven He came and sought her
To be His holy bride;
With His own blood He bought her
And for her life He died.

Elect from every nation,
Yet one o’er all the earth;
Her charter of salvation,
One Lord, one faith, one birth;
One holy Name she blesses,
Partakes one holy food,
And to one hope she presses,
With every grace endued.

The Church shall never perish!
Her dear Lord to defend,
To guide, sustain, and cherish,
Is with her to the end:
Though there be those who hate her,
And false sons in her pale,
Against both foe or traitor
She ever shall prevail.

Though with a scornful wonder
Men see her sore oppressed,
By schisms rent asunder,
By heresies distressed:
Yet saints their watch are keeping,
Their cry goes up, “How long?”
And soon the night of weeping
Shall be the morn of song!

’Mid toil and tribulation,
And tumult of her war,
She waits the consummation
Of peace forevermore;
Till, with the vision glorious,
Her longing eyes are blest,
And the great Church victorious
Shall be the Church at rest.

Yet she on earth hath union
With God the Three in One,
And mystic sweet communion
With those whose rest is won,
With all her sons and daughters
Who, by the Master’s hand
Led through the deathly waters,
Repose in Eden land.

O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we
Like them, the meek and lowly,
On high may dwell with Thee:
There, past the border mountains,
Where in sweet vales the Bride
With Thee by living fountains
Forever shall abide!

"For all the Saints" -- Mike's Hymn o' the Week (Friday, July 13, 2007)

In an effort to encourage my small sphere of influence on the Interweb to sing more hymns, I am going to begin posting a favorite hymn of the week on Fridays-ish every week. Many will likely have come to me via the Indelible Grace project, which I encourage all of you to check out. They release CDs full of hymns set to modern music (though generally very strongly influenced by the familiar tune known to people familiar with the literature of hymns). This week's hymn is the title track off their third CD, "For All the Saints," as performed by Dan Haseltine of Jars of Clay. I include all the verses of the original hymn, a subset of which are sung on the album. They are denoted by an asterisk (*), in case you are interested.

The verse beginning with "But lo there breaks..." does not fail to put a smile on my face and a tear in my eye as I think toward the glorious future hope that the saints of God hold. Enjoy, and may your spirit be renewed by How's lovely words.

For all the Saints
By: William W. How

*For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

*Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For the Apostles’ glorious company,
Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,
Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,
Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,
Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,
Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,
And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
All are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

*O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

*The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

*But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
And singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

A hymn: "Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken"

I think I'm just going to continue to post hymns as they strike a chord in me. This is the latest culprit. I may come back and edit this post later to include some of my reasoning, but for now I leave you with "Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken", by Henry F. Lyte.

Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken
By Henry Lyte

Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and Heaven are still mine own.

Let the world despise and leave me,
They have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And while Thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me,
Show Thy face and all is bright.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure!
Come, disaster, scorn and pain!
In Thy service, pain is pleasure;
With Thy favor, loss is gain.
I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”;
I have set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.

Man may trouble and distress me,
’Twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.

Take, my soul, thy full salvation;
Rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear:
Think what Spirit dwells within thee;
What a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Savior died to win thee,
Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

Haste then on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith, and winged by prayer,
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee,
God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope soon change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.