Tried With Fire

Our follies past forgive; Our souls divinely cheer; And help us more to thee to live, Dear Lord, in this new year. Samuel Medley

O what amazing words of grace Are in the gospel found! Suited to every sinner's case Who knows the joyful sound. Come, then, with all your wants and wounds, Your every burden bring; Here love, eternal love, abounds, A deep celestial spring. This spring with living water flows, And living joy imparts; Come, thirsty souls, your wants disclose,  And drink with thankful hearts. To sinners poor, like me and you, He says he'll freely give, Come, thirsty souls, and prove it true, Drink, and for ever live. Samuel Medley (1738-1799) Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Assist my soul, my heavenly King, Thy everlasting love to sing; And joyful spread thy praise abroad, As one, through grace, that's born of God No, it was not the will of man My soul's new heavenly birth began; Nor will, nor power of flesh and blood That turned my heart from sin to God. Herein let self be all abased, And sovereign love alone confessed; This be my song through all the road, That born I am, and born of God. O may this love my soul constrain To make returns of love again; That I, while earth is my abode, May live like one that's born of God. May I thy praises daily show, Who hast created all things new; And washed me in a Saviour's blood To prove that I'm a son of God. And when the appointed hour shall come, That thou wilt call me to my home; Joyful I'll pass the chilling flood, And die as one that's born of God. Then shall my soul triumphant rise To its blest mansion in the skies; ...

Jesus, before Thy face I fall, my Lord, my Life, my Hope, my All; For I have nowhere else to flee, no sanctuary, Lord, but Thee. In Thee, I every glory view, of safety, strength, and beauty too; Beloved saviour, ever be a Sanctuary unto me. Whatever woes and fears betide, in Thy dear bosom let me hide; And, while I pour my soul to Thee, do Thou my Sanctuary be. Through life and all its changing scenes, and all the grief that intervenes, 'Tis this supports my fainting heart, that Thou my Sanctuary art. Apace the solemn hour draws night, when I must bow my head and die; But O what joy this witness gives, Jesus, my Sanctuary, lives! He from the grave my dust shall raise; I in the heavens will sing His praise; And when in glory I appear, He'll be my Sanctuary there. Hymn 173, written by Samuel Medley  (1738-1799)