Sunday Audio Service – 4 before Advent – Morning Worship – 30/10/22
COME DOWN, O LOVE DIVINE,
Seek Thou this soul of mine
And visit it with Thine own ardour glowing.
O Comforter, draw near,
Within my heart appear,
And kindle it, Thy holy flame bestowing.
O let it freely burn,
Till earthly passions turn
To dust and ashes, in its heat consuming.
And let Thy glorious light
Shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.
Let holy charity
Mine outward vesture be,
And lowliness become mine inner clothing.
True lowliness of heart,
Which takes the humbler part,
And o'er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.
And so, the yearning strong,
With which the soul will long,
Shall far out pass the power of human telling.
For none can guess its grace,
Till he become the place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes His dwelling.
Richard F. Littledale (1833-90)
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AMAZING GRACE! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed!
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come.
’Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
Yes, when this heart and flesh shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil
A life of joy and peace.
When we’ve been there a thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we first begun.
John Newton.
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TAKE MY LIFE, AND LET IT BE
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee.
Take my voice, and let me sing
Always, only, for my King.
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect, and use
Every power as Thou shalt choose.
Take my will and make it Thine.
It shall be no longer mine:
Take my heart, it is Thine own.
It shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love; my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store:
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee.
Frances Ridley Havergal.
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CROWN HIM WITH MANY CROWNS,
The Lamb upon His throne.
Hark, how the heavenly anthem drowns
All music but its own!
Awake, my soul, and sing
Of Him who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King
Through all eternity.
Crown Him the Lord of life,
Who triumphed o’er the grave
And rose victorious in the strife
For those He came to save:
His glories now we sing,
Who died and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring
And lives that death may die.
Crown Him the Lord of love.
Behold His hands and side,
Those wounds yet visible above
In beauty glorified:
No angel in the sky
Can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends His burning eye
At mysteries so bright.
Crown Him the Lord of peace,
Whose power a sceptre sways
From pole to pole, that wars may cease,
And all be prayer and praise:
His reign shall know no end,
And round His piercèd feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend
Their fragrance ever sweet.
Crown Him the Lord of years,
The Potentate of time,
Creator of the rolling spheres,
Ineffably sublime!
All hail, Redeemer, hail!
For Thou hast died for me.
Thy praise shall never, never fail
Throughout eternity.
Matthew Bridges & Godfrey Thring.
