Belshazzar
Poor sinners! little do they think
With whom they have to do!
But stand securely on the brink
Of everlasting woe.
Belshazzar thus, profanely bold,
The Lord of hosts defied;
But vengeance soon his boasts controlled,
And humbled all his pride.
He saw a hand upon the wall
And trembled on his throne
Which wrote his sudden dreadful fall
In characters unknown.
Why should he tremble at the view
Of what he could not read?
Foreboding conscience quickly knew
His ruin was decreed.
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poem by John Newton
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The Believer's Safety (II)
That man no guard or weapons needs,
Whose heart the blood of Jesus knows;
But safe may pass, if duty leads,
Through burning sands or mountain snows.
Released from guilt he feels no fear,
Redemption is his shield and tow'r;
He sees his Saviour always near
To help, in every trying hour.
Though I am weak and Satan strong,
And often to assault me tries;
When Jesus is my shield and song,
Abashed the wolf before me flies.
His love possessing I am blest,
Secure whatever change may come;
Whether I go to East or West,
With him I still shall be at home.
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poem by John Newton
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Naaman
Before Elisha's gate
The Syrian leper stood;
But could not brook to wait,
He deemed himself too good:
He thought the prophet would attend,
And not to him a message send.
Have I this journey come,
And will he not be seen?
I were as well at home,
Would washing make me clean:
Why must I wash in Jordan's flood?
Damascus' rivers are as good.
Thus by his foolish pride
He almost missed a cure;
Howe'er at length he tried,
And found the method sure:
Soon as his pride was brought to yield,
The leprosy was quickly healed.
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poem by John Newton
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We Were Pharaoh's Bondmen
Beneath the tyrant Satan's yoke
Our souls were long oppressed;
Till grace our galling fetters broke,
And gave the weary rest.
Jesus, in that important hour,
His mighty arm made known;
He ransomed us by price, and pow'r,
And claimed us for his own.
Now, freed from bondage, sin, and death,
We walk in Wisdom's ways;
And wish to spend our every breath,
In wonder, love, and praise.
Ere long, we hope with him to dwell
In yonder world above;
And now, we only live to tell
The riches of his love.
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poem by John Newton
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How Sweet The Name Of Jesus Sounds
How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear?
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.
It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis Manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.
Dear name! The rock on which I build,
My Shield and Hiding-place;
My never-failing Treas'ry filled
With boundless stores of grace.
By thee my prayers acceptance gain
Although with sin defiled,
Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am owned a child.
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poem by John Newton
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Satan Returning
When Jesus claims the sinner's heart,
Where Satan ruled before;
The evil spirit must depart,
And dares return no more.
But when he goes without constraint,
And wanders from his home;
Although withdrawn, 'tis but a feint,
He means again to come.
Some outward change perhaps is seen
If Satan quit the place;
But though the house seem swept and clean,
'Tis destitute of grace.
Except the Saviour dwell and reign
Within the sinner's mind;
Satan, when he returns again,
Will easy entrance find.
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poem by John Newton
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Faith's Review and Expectation (Amazing Grace)
1
1 AMAZING grace! (how sweet the sound!)
2 That sav'd a wretch like me!
3 I once was lost, but now am found;
4 Was blind, but now I see.
2
5 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
6 And grace my fears reliev'd;
7 How precious did that grace appear,
8 The hour I first believ'd!
3
9 Thro' many dangers, toils, and snares,
10 I have already come;
11 'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
12 And grace will lead me home.
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poem by John Newton
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The Bitter Waters
Beside the gospel pool
Appointed for the poor;
From year to year, my helpless soul
Has waited for a cure.
How often have I seen
The healing waters move;
And others, round me, stepping in
Their efficacy prove.
But my complaints remain,
I feel the very same;
As full of guilt, and fear, and pain.
As when at first I came.
O would the Lord appear
My malady to heal;
He knows how long I've languished here;
And what distress I feel.
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poem by John Newton
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The Pool Of Bethesda
Beside the gospel pool
Appointed for the poor;
From year to year, my helpless soul
Has waited for a cure.
How often have I seen
The healing waters move;
And others, round me, stepping in
Their efficacy prove.
But my complaints remain,
I feel the very same;
As full of guilt, and fear, and pain.
As when at first I came.
O would the Lord appear
My malady to heal;
He knows how long I've languished here;
And what distress I feel.
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poem by John Newton
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The Meal And Cruse Of Oil
By the poor widow's oil and meal
Elijah was sustained;
Though small the stock it lasted well,
For God the store maintained.
It seemed as if from day to day,
They were to eat and die;
But still, though in a secret way,
He sent a fresh supply.
Thus to his poor he still will give
Just for the present hour;
But for tomorrow they must live
Upon his word and power.
No barn or storehouse they possess
On which they can depend;
Yet have no cause to fear distress,
For Jesus is their friend.
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poem by John Newton
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