Tried With Fire

Come, ye souls, by sin afflicted, Bowed with fruitless sorrow down; By the broken law convicted, Through the cross behold the crown! Look to Jesus; Mercy flows through him alone. Sweet as home to pilgrims weary, Light to newly-opened eyes, Flowing springs in deserts weary; Is the rest the cross supplies; All who tastes it Shall to rest immortal rise. Blessed are the eyes that see him; Blest the ears that hear his voice; Blessed are the souls that trust him, And in him alone rejoice; His commandments Then become their happy choice. But to sing the "Rest remaining," Mortal tongues far short must fall; Heavenly tongues are ever aiming, But they cannot tell it all; Faith believes it - Hope expects it -  But it overwhelms them all. Joseph Swain (1761-1796)

To Him that loved us, ere we lay Concealed within the passive clay; To Him that loved us though we fell, And saved us from the pains of hell! To him that found us dead in sin, And planted holy life within; To Him that taught our feet the way From endless night to endless day; To Him that wrought our righteousness, And sanctified us by His grace; To Him that brought us back to God, Through the red sea of His own blood; To Him that sits upon the throne, The great eternal Three-in-One; To Him let saints and angels raise An everlasting song of praise. Joseph Swain (1761-1796)