First Sunday Back

I meant to post this Sunday but amid the chaos of hurricane clean-up, Morning Services, patching up things between my ex and I, going to a meeting where my dad formally announced that he was going to begin working for our church, and watching cute midshipman at an air show, I didn’t have time to post anything. This Sunday, however, when I went back to my church for the first time, there were a few songs that really touched me. I’m going to try to share (every Sunday) the songs from the service or a hymn that I saw and really liked. The two below may not mean much if you don’t know me outside of this blog but one day I might explain.

The Sands of Time are Sinking

The sands of time are sinking, the dawn of heaven breaks/The summer morn I’ve sighed for –the, sweet morn awakes/Dark, Dark had been the midnight, but dayspring is at hand/And glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel’s land

The king there in His beauty, without a veil is seen/It were a well-spent journey, though seven deaths lay between/The Lamb with His fair army, doth on Mount Zion stand/ And glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel’s land

O Christ, He is the, the deep, sweet well of love/The streams on earth I’ve tasted, more deep I’ll drink above/There to an ocean fullness, his mercy doth expand/ And glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel’s land

The bride eyes not her Garment, but her dear Bridegroom’s face/I will not gaze at glory, but on my king of grace/Not at the crown he giveth, but on His pierced hand/The Lamb is all the glory, of Emmanuel’s land

O I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine/He brings a poor vile sinner, into his house of wine/ I stand upon His merit –I know no other stand/Not e’en where glory dwelleth, in Emmanuel’s land

Help My Unbelief

I know the Lord is nigh, and would but cannot pray/For Satan meets me when I try/And frights my soul away, and frights my soul away

I would but can’t repent, though I endeavor oft/This stony heart can ne’er relent/Till Jesus makes it soft, till Jesus makes it soft

Chorus: Help my unbelief. Help my unbelief. Help my unbelief. My help must come from Thee

I would but cannot love, though wooed by love divine/No arguments have power to move/ A soul as base as mine, a soul as base as mine

I would but cannot rest, in God’s most holy will/I know what He appoints is best/And murmur at it still, I murmur at it still