Sunday Hymn: He Leadeth Me

He lead­eth me, O bless­èd thought!
O words with heav’n­ly com­fort fraught!
Whate’er I do, whe­re’er I be
Still ’tis God’s hand that lead­eth me.

Refrain

He lead­eth me, He lead­eth me,
By His own hand He lead­eth me;
His faith­ful fol­low­er I would be,
For by His hand He lead­eth me.

Sometimes mid scenes of deep­est gloom,
Sometimes where Ed­en’s bow­ers bloom,
By wa­ters still, ov­er trou­bled sea,
Still ’tis His hand that lead­eth me.

Lord, I would place my hand in Thine,
Nor ever mur­mur nor re­pine;
Content, what­ev­er lot I see,
Since ’tis my God that lead­eth me.

And when my task on earth is done,
When by Thy grace the vic­to­ry’s won,
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,
Since God through Jor­dan lead­eth me.

—Jo­seph H. Gil­more

Sunday Hymn: When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

When I sur­vey the won­drous cross
On which the Prince of glo­ry died,
My rich­est gain I count but loss,
And pour con­tempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sac­ri­fice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow min­gled down!
Did e’er such love and sor­row meet,
Or thorns com­pose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of na­ture mine,
That were a pre­sent far too small;
Love so am­az­ing, so di­vine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

—Isaac Watts

Sunday's Hymn: Here Is Love

Here is love, vast as the ocean,
Lovingkindness as the flood,
When the Prince of Life, our ran­som,
Shed for us His pre­cious blood.
Who His love will not re­mem­ber?
Who can cease to sing His praise?
He can ne­ver be for­got­ten,
Throughout Heav’n’s eter­nal days.

On the mount of cru­ci­fix­ion,
Fountains op­ened deep and wide;
Through the flood­gates of God’s mer­cy
Flowed a vast and gra­cious tide.
Grace and love, like mig­hty ri­vers,
Poured in­cess­ant from above,
And Heav’n’s peace and per­fect jus­tice
Kissed a guil­ty world in love.

Let me all Thy love ac­cept­ing,
Love Thee, ev­er all my days;
Let me seek Thy king­dom on­ly
And my life be to Thy praise;
Thou alone shalt be my glo­ry,
Nothing in the world I see.
Thou hast cleansed and sanc­ti­fied me,
Thou Thy­self hast set me free.

In Thy truth Thou dost di­rect me
By Thy Spir­it through Thy Word;
And Thy grace my need is meet­ing,
As I trust in Thee, my Lord.
Of Thy full­ness Thou art pour­ing
Thy great love and pow­er on me,
Without mea­sure, full and bound­less,
Drawing out my heart to Thee.

—William Rees