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HYMNS for the Aged

Back to A Happy Old Age


For a Time of SICKNESS.

When languor and disease invade
This trembling house of clay,
'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage
And long to fly away!

Sweet to look inward and attend
The whispers of His love;
Sweet to look upward to the place
Where Jesus pleads above.

Sweet to look back, and see my name
In life's fair book set down;
Sweet to look forward, and behold
Eternal joys my own!

Sweet to reflect how grace Divine
My sins on Jesus laid;
Sweet to remember that His blood
My debt of suffering paid!

Sweet in His righteousness to stand,
Which saves from second death;
Sweet to experience day by day
His Spirit's guiding breath.

Sweet in the confidence of faith
To trust His firm decrees; 
Sweet to lie passive in His hands,
And know no will but His.

If such the sweetness of the stream,
What must the fountain be, 
Where saints and angels draw their bliss
Immediately from Thee?


SUBMISSION.

"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." Luke 22:42

My God and Father, while I stray
Far from my home on life's rough way,
Oh, teach me from my heart to say,
'Your will be done.'

If You do call me to resign
What most I prize — it ne'er was mine;
I only yield You what was Thine:
'Your will be done.'

Should pining sickness waste away
My life in premature decay,
My Father, still I strive to say,
'Your will be done.'

If but my fainting heart be blessed
With Your sweet Spirit for my guest,
My God, to You I leave the rest:
'Your will be done.'

Renew my will from day to day;
Blend it with Yours, and take away
All that now makes it hard to say,
'Your will be done.'

Then, when on earth I breathe no more,
The prayer, oft mixed with tears before
I'll sing upon a happier shore,
'Your will be done.'


Rest for the Weary.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

I Heard the voice of Jesus say,
Come unto Me, and rest;
Lay down, you weary one, lay down
Your head upon My breast.

I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad; 
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
Behold, I freely give
The living water: thirsty one,
Stoop down, and drink, and live.

I came to Jesus, and I drank
Of that life-giving stream, 
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
And now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
I am this dark world's light;
Look unto Me, your morn shall rise,
And all your day be bright.

I looked to Jesus, and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun;
And in that light of life I'll walk
Until traveling days are done.


The Wanderer Restored.

"For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls." 1 Peter 2:25

I was a wandering sheep,
I did not love the fold;
I did not love my Shepherd's voice.
I would not be controlled.

The Shepherd sought His sheep;
The Father sought His child;
They followed me o'er hill and dale,
O'er desert, waste, and wild.

Jesus my Shepherd is:
'Twas He who loved my soul, 
'Twas He who washed me in His blood, 
'Twas He who made me whole.

'Twas He who sought the lost, 
That found the wandering sheep; 
'Twas He who brought me to the fold; 
'Tis He who does me keep.

I was a wandering sheep, 
I would not be controlled; 
But now I love the Shepherd's voice, 
I love, I love the fold!


The Better Country

"Instead, they were longing for a better country — a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them!" Hebrews 11:16

I'm but a stranger here,
Heaven is my home;
Earth is a desert drear,
Heaven is my home.

Danger and sorrow stand
Round me on every hand;
Heaven is my fatherland,
Heaven is my home.

What though the tempest rage?
Heaven is my home:
Short is my pilgrimage,
Heaven is my home.

And time's wild wintry blast
Soon will be overpast;
I shall reach home at last,
Heaven is my home.

There at my Savior's side,
Heaven is my home; 
I shall be glorified;
Heaven is my home. 

There are the good and blessed, 
Those I loved most and best, 
And there I too shall rest;
Heaven is my home.

Therefore I murmur not,
Heaven is my home: 
Whatever my earthly lot,
Heaven is my home.

And I shall surely stand 
There at my Lord's right hand
Heaven is my fatherland, 
Heaven is my home.


Heavenly Mansion.

"In my Father's house are many mansions." John 14:2

I have a home above,
From sin and sorrow free,
A mansion which eternal Love
Designed and formed for me.

My Father's gracious hand
Has built this sweet abode; 
From everlasting it was planned,
My dwelling-place with God.

My Savior's precious blood
Has made my title sure; 
He passed through death's dark raging flood,
To make my rest secure.

The Comforter is come,
The promise has been given;
He leads me onward to the home
Reserved for me in Heaven.

Bright angels guard my way,
His ministers of power, 
Encamping round me night and day,
Keep me in danger's hour.

Loved ones are gone before,
Whose pilgrim days are done:
I soon shall meet them on that shore
Where partings are unknown.

Your love, You precious Lord,
My joy and strength shall he,
Until You shall speak the gladdening word
That bids me rise to Thee.

And then through endless days,
Where all Your glories shine,
In happier, holier strains I'll praise
The grace that made me Thine!


The Pilgrim's Song

A Pilgrim and a stranger,
I journey here below;
Far distant is my country,
The Home to which I go.

Here I must toil and travel,
Oft weary and oppressed,
But there my God shall lead me
To everlasting rest.

I've met with storms and dangers
Even from my early years, 
With enemies and conflicts,
With fightings and with fears.

There's nothing here that tempts me
To wish a longer stay; 
So I must hasten forwards,
No halting or delay.

So I must hasten forwards,
Thank God the end will come! 
The land of my sojourning
Is not my destined home.

That evermore abideth,
Jerusalem above,
The everlasting city,
The land of light and love.

There still my thoughts are dwelling;
'Tis there I long to be.
Come, Lord, and call Your servant
To blessedness with Thee.

Come, bid my toils be ended,
Let all my wanderings cease,
Call from the wayside lodging
To the sweet home of peace.

There I shall dwell forever,
No more a stranger guest,
With all Your blood-bought children,
In everlasting rest.

The pilgrim toils forgotten,
The pilgrim conflicts o'er,
All earthly griefs behind us,
Eternal joys before!


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