Sunday's Hymn

I’ve been posting lesser-known hymns written by well-known hymnographers. I’ve done two by John Newton, and now I’m moving on to Charles Wesley, one of our most prolific hymn writers. Over six-thousand hymns, he wrote, and this is one of them.

(That’s a portrait of a young Charles Wesley to the right.)

Peace, Doubting Heart!

Peace, doubting heart! my God’s I am;
Who formed me man, forbids my fear;
The Lord hath called me by my name;
The Lord protects, for ever near;
His blood for me did once atone,
And still He loves and guards His own.

When passing through the watery deep,
I ask in faith His promised aid,
The waves all awful distance keep,
And shrink from my devoted head;
Fearless their violence I dare;
They cannot harm, for God is there!

To Him mine eye of faith I turn,
And through the fire pursue my way;
The fire forgets its power to burn,
The lambent flames around me play;
I own His power, accept the sign,
And shout to prove the Savior mine.

Still nigh me, O my Savior, stand!
And guard in fierce temptation’s hour;
Hide in the hollow of Thy hand,
Show forth in me Thy saving power,
Still be Thy arms my sure defense,
Nor earth nor hell shall pluck me thence.

Since Thou hast bid me come to Thee,
Good as Thou art, and strong to save
I’ll walk o’er life’s tempestuous sea,
Upborne by the unyielding wave,
Dauntless, though rocks of pride be near,
And yawning whirlpools of despair.

When darkness intercepts the skies,
And sorrow’s waves around me roll,
When high the storms of passion rise,
And half o’erwhelm my sinking soul,
My soul a sudden calm shall feel,
And hear a whisper, “Peace; be still!”

Though in affliction’s furnace tried,
Unhurt on snares and death I’ll tread;
Though sin assail, and hell, thrown wide,
Pour all its flames upon my head,
Like Moses’ bush, I’ll mount the higher,
And flourish unconsumed in fire.

Other hymns, worship songs, sermons etc. posted today:

• Take Up Your Cross, the Savior Said at Conjubilant with Song
• Lord’s Day 11, 2009 at The Thirsty Theologian
• You Shine at The Happy Wonderer
• The Third Sunday in Lent at Nova Scotia Scott
• O Lord, How Shall I Meet Thee? at Hiraeth
• Jesus, With Thy Church Abide at Fieldstone Cottage
• Lord, the God of My Salvation at joythruChrist
• Your weekly dose of Spurgeon at Pyromaniacs: On Sanctified Humor

Have you posted a hymn today and I missed it? Let me know by leaving a link in the comments or by emailing me at the address in the sidebar and I’ll add your post to the list.

Saturday's Old Photo

This is a photo of my dad with his younger brother and sister. He says he was in ninth grade, because that was when he got his trumpet. That dates this photo to about 1940.

Little sister Bertha is holding what looks like a toy pig. No one in my family can identify what it is that little brother Bruce is holding. Does it look like a lens of some sort? A magnifying glass, maybe? What I can say for sure is that his overalls look brand new.

I suspect the toys, the trumpet, and the overalls are Christmas presents, but I’m not sure, because I forgot to ask. There aren’t any leaves on the bush in the foreground, which means it might be winter. They aren’t wearing coats, but Christmas in Kansas doesn’t have to be cold. The Kansas Christmas mentioned in last week’s old photo post included some 65°F days.

My dad says that although he was in his high school band, he never did learn to play his trumpet. He’s never been interested in music—not even a little—so I’m not surprised.

The three are standing in front of the farmhouse that my grandparents still lived in when I visited them as a child. That home now belongs to one of the grandsons—one of my cousins—who lives there with his family.

Here's Pi in Your Eye

Because tomorrow is the big day.

Time to start baking.