The Power And Triumph Of Faith
Supported by the word,
Though in himself a worm,
The servant of the Lord
Can wondrous acts perform:
Without dismay he boldly treads
Where'er the path of duty leads.
The haughty king in vain,
With fury on his brow,
Believers would constrain
To golden gods to bow:
The furnace could not make them fear,
Because they knew the Lord was near.
As vain was the decree
Which charged them not to pray;
Daniel still bowed his knee,
And worshiped thrice a day:
Trusting in God, he feared not men,
Though threatened with the lion's den.
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poem by John Newton
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Lovest Thou Me?
'Tis a point I long to know,
Oft it causes anxious thought;
Do I love the Lord, or no?
Am I his, or am I not?
If I love, why am I thus?
Why this dull and lifeless frame?
Hardly, sure, can they be worse,
Who have never heard his name!
Could my heart so hard remain,
Prayer a task and burden prove;
Every trifle give me pain,
If I knew a Saviour's love?
When I turn my eyes within,
All is dark, and vain, and wild;
Filled with unbelief and sin,
Can I deem myself a child?
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poem by John Newton
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The Barren Fig-Tree
The church a garden is
In which believers stand,
Like ornamental trees
Planted by God's own hand:
His Spirit waters all their roots,
And every branch abounds with fruits.
But other trees there are,
In this enclosure grow;
Which, though they promise fair,
Have only leaves to show:
No fruits of grace are on them found,
They stand but cumb'rers of the ground.
The under gard'ner grieves,
In vain his strength he spends,
For heaps of useless leaves,
Afford him small amends:
He hears the Lord his will make known,
To cut the barren fig-trees down.
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poem by John Newton
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None Upon Earth I Desire Besides Thee
How tedious and tasteless the hours,
When Jesus no longer I see;
Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flow'rs,
Have lost all their sweetness with me:
The mid-summer sun shines but dim,
The fields strive in vain to look gay;
But when I am happy in Him,
December's as pleasant as May.
His name yields the richest perfume,
And sweeter than music his voice;
His presence disperses my gloom,
And makes all within me rejoice:
I should, were he always thus nigh,
Have nothing to wish or to fear;
No mortal so happy as I,
My summer would last all the year.
Content with beholding his face,
My all to his pleasure resigned;
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poem by John Newton
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At the Close of the Year
Let hearts and tongues unite,
And loud thanksgivings raise:
'Tis duty, mingled with delight,
To sing the Saviour's praise.
To him we owe our breath,
He took us from the womb,
Which else had shut us up in death,
And prov'd an early tomb.
When on the breast we hung,
Our help was in the Lord;
'Twas he first taught our infant tongue
To form the lisping word.
When in our blood we lay,
He would not let us die,
Because his love had fix'd a day
To bring salvation nigh.
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poem by John Newton
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A Brand Plucked Out Of The Fire
With Satan, my accuser, near
My spirit trembled when I saw
The Lord in majesty appear,
And heart the language of the law.
In vain I wish'd and strove to hide
The tatter'd, filthy rags I wore;
While my fierce foe insulting cry'd
See what you trusted in before!
Struck dumb, and left without a plea,
I heard my gracious Saviour say,
Know Satan, I this sinner free,
I died to take his sin away.
This is a brand which I, in love,
To save from wrath and sin design!
In vain thy accusations prove;
I answer all, and call him mine.
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poem by John Newton
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Peter Sinning And Repenting
When Peter boasted, soon he fell,
Yet was by grace restored;
His case should be regarded well
By all who fear the Lord.
A voice it has, and helping hand,
Backsliders to recall;
And cautions those who think they stand,
Lest suddenly they fall.
He said, Whatever others do,
With Jesus I'll abide;
Yet soon amidst a murd'rous crew
His suff'ring Lord denied.
He who had been so bold before,
Now trembled like a leaf;
Not only lied, but cursed and swore,
To gain the more belief.
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poem by John Newton
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Gibeon
When Joshua, by God's command,
Invaded Canaan's guilty land;
Gibeon, unlike the nations round,
Submission made and mercy found.
Their stubborn neighbors who enraged,
United war against them waged,
By Joshua soon were overthrown,
For Gibeon's cause was now his own.
He, from whose arm they ruin feared,
Their leader and ally appeared
An emblem of the Saviour's grace,
To those who humbly seek his face.
The men of Gibeon wore disguise,
And gained their peace by framing lies;
For Joshua had no pow'r to spare,
If he had known from whence they were.
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poem by John Newton
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How Lost Was My Condition
How lost was my condition
Till Jesus made me whole!
There is but one physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul
Next door to death he found me,
And snatched me from the grave,
To tell all around me
His wond'rous pow'r to save.
The worst of all diseases
Is light compared with sin;
On ev'ry part it seizes,
But rages most within;
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness-all combined;
And none, but a believer,
The least relief can find.
From men, great skill professing,
I sought a cure to gain;
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poem by John Newton
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The True Aaron
See Aaron, God's anointed priest,
Within the veil appear;
In robes of mystic meaning dressed,
Presenting Israel's prayer.
The plate of gold which crowns his brows,
His holiness describes;
His breast displays, in shining rows,
The names of all the tribes.
With the atoning blood he stands,
Before the mercy-seat;
And clouds of incense from his hands,
Arise with odor sweet.
Urim and Thummim near his heart,
In rich engravings worn;
The sacred light of truth impart,
To teach and to adorn.
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poem by John Newton
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