Sunday, April 1, 2012

Two Hymns

Courtesy Philip Schaff, Christ in Song: Hymns of Immanual, Selected from all Ages, With Notes, Volume 2.

O Blessed Sun, Whose Splendor
O Blessed Sun, whose splendor
Dispels the shades of night;
O Jesus, my defender,
My soul's supreme delight-
All day I hear resounding
A voice with silver tone,
Which speaks of grace abounding
Through God's eternal Son.

A deep and heavenly feeling
Oft seizes on my breast,
Ah! here is balm for healing,
Here only is true rest!
Though fortune should bereave me
Of all I love the best,
If Christ His love still leave me,
I freely give the rest.

To win this precious treasure
And matchless pearl, I would
Give honor, wealth, and pleasure,
And every earthly good;
I gladly would surrender
The dearest thing which might
Obscure my Sun's bright splendor,
And rob me of His light.

I  know no life divided,
O Lord of life! from Thee;
In Thee is life provided
For all mankind and me.
I know no death, O Jesus
Because I live in Thee:
Thy death it is which frees us
From death eternally.

I fear no tribulation,
Since, whatsoe'er it be,
It makes no separation
Between my Lord and me.
If Thou, my God and teacher,
Vouchsafe to be my own,
Though poor, I shall be richer
Than monarch on the throne.

If, while on earth I wander,
My heart is light and blest,
Ah! what shall I be yonder
In perfect peace and rest?
O blessed thought in dying!
We go to meet the Lord,
Where there shall be no sighing,
A kingdom our reward.

Lord, with this truth impress me,
And write it on my heart,
To comfort, cheer, and bless me,
That Thou my Saviour art;
Without Thy love to guide me,
I should be wholly lost;
The floods would quickly hide me,
On life's wide ocean tost.

Thy love  it was which sought me,
Thyself unsought by me,
And to the haven brought me
Where I would gladly be.
The things which once distrest me,
My heart no longer move,
Since this sweet truth imprest me:
That I possess Thy love.

-C.J.P. Spitta

Rest, Weary Soul!
     Rest, weary soul!
The penalty is borne, the ransom paid,
For all thy sins full satisfaction made;
Strive not to do thyself what Christ has done;
Claim the free gift, and make the joy thine own;
No more by pangs of guilt and fear distrest,
     Rest, sweetly rest!

     Rest, weary heart,
From all thy silent griefs and secret pain,
Thy profitless regrets and longings vain;
Wisdom and love have ordered all the past,
All shall be blessedness and light at last;
Cast off the cares that have so long opprest:
     Rest, sweetly rest!

     Rest, weary head!
Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb;
Light from above has broken through its gloom:
Here, in the place where once thy Saviour lay,
Where He shall wake thee on a future day,
Like a tired child upon its mother's breast,
     Rest, sweetly rest!

     Rest, spirit free!
In the green pastures of the heavenly shore,
Where sin and sorrow can approach no more,
With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed,
Beside the streams of life eternal led,
For ever with thy God and Saviour blest,
     Rest, sweetly rest!

-Jane Borthwick

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