Whate'er My God Ordains

Words: Samuel Rodigast
Tune: S. Gastorius

Whate’er my God ordains is right: His holy will abideth;
I will be still whate’er He doth; And follow where He guideth;
He is my God; though dark my road, He holds me that I shall not fall:
Wherefore to Him I leave it all.

Whate’er my God ordains is right: He never will deceive me;
He leads me by the proper path: I know He will not leave me.
I take, content, what He hath sent; His hand can turn my griefs away,
And patiently I wait His day.

Whate’er my God ordains is right: Though now this cup, in drinking,
May bitter seem to my faint heart, I take it, all unshrinking.
My God is true; each morn anew Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,
And pain and sorrow shall depart.

Whate’er my God ordains is right: Here shall my stand be taken;
Though sorrow, need, or death be mine, Yet I am not forsaken.
My Father’s care is round me there; He holds me that I shall not fall:
And so to Him I leave it all.


Too Wise

Words: Samuel Medley
Tune: Ryan McKasson

God shall alone the refuge be,
And comfort of my mind;
Too wise to be mistaken, He,
Too good to be unkind.

In all his holy, sovereign will,
He is, I daily find,
Too wise to be mistaken, still
Too good to be unkind.

When I the tempter's rage endure,
Tis God supports my mind;
Too wise to be mistaken, sure,
Too good to be unkind.

When sore afflictions on me lie,
He is (though I am blind)
Too wise to be mistaken, yea,
Too good to be unkind.

What though I can't his goings see,
Nor all his footsteps find?
Too wise to be mistaken, He,
Too good to be unkind.

Hereafter he will make me know,
And I shall surely find,
He was too wise to err, and O,
Too good to be unkind.


Jesus Shepherd

Words: J. Adams
Tune: Cathy Steere

Jesus, Shepherd of thy people,
Lead us through this desert land;
We are weak, and poor, and feeble,
Yet we trust thy mighty hand;
Great Protector!
By thy power alone we stand.

All thy sheep shall come to Zion;
With them thou wilt never part;
Beasts of prey, nor roaring lion,
None shall pluck them from thy heart;
All thy chosen
Cost thee wounds, and blood, and smart.

In thy bosom safely lodged,
Thine shall rest from danger free;
They shall never more be judged,
Nor shall condemnation see;
Blessed Jesus,
Let us thus rejoice in thee.




Words: Josiah Conder
Tune: Christi Naler

'Tis not that I did choose thee,
For, Lord, that could not be;
This heart would still refuse thee,
Hadst thou not chosen me.
Thou from the sin that stained me
Hast cleansed and set me free;
Of old thou hast ordained me,
That I should live to thee.

'Twas sov'reign mercy called me
And taught my op'ning mind;
The world had else enthralled me,
To heav'nly glories blind.
My heart owns none before thee,
For thy rich grace I thirst;
This knowing, if I love thee,
Thou must have loved me first.


My Times

Words: Benjamin Beddomme
Tune: Brooke McKasson

My times of sorrow and of joy,
Great God, are in thy hand;
My choicest comforts come from thee,
And go at thy command.

If thou shouldst take them all away,
Yet let me not repine;
Before they were possessed by me,
They were entirely thine.

Nor let me drop a murmuring word,
Though the whole world were gone;
But seek enduring happiness
In thee, and thee alone.


Afflicted Saint

Words: John Fawcett
Tune: G. Lieder

Afflicted Saint, to Christ draw near,
Thy Saviour's gracious promise hear;
His faithful word declares to thee,
That as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Let not thy heart despond, and say,
"How shall I stand the trying day?"
He has engaged, by firm decree,
That as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Thy faith is weak, thy foes are strong;
And if the conflict should be long,
Thy Lord will make the tempter flee;
For as thy days, thy strength shall be.

When called to bear the weighty cross,
Or sore affliction, pain, or loss,
Or deep distress, or poverty,
Still, as thy days, they strength shall be.


O Sacred Head

Words: Bernard of Clairvaux
Tune: Traditional Irish

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory, what bliss till now was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call Thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

Be near when I am dying, O show thy cross to me;
And for my succor flying, come, Lord, to set me free:
These eyes, new faith receiving, from Jesus shall not move;
For he who dies believing, dies safely, through thy love.



Words: J. Bromehead
Tune: Christi Naler

Jerusalem, my happy home!
Name ever dear to me;
When shall my labours have an end
In joy, and peace, and thee?

When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls
And pearly gates behold;
Thy bulwarks and salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?

Why should I shrink at pain or woe,
Or feel at death dismay?
I've Canaan's goodly land in view,
And realms of endless day.

Jerusalem, my hapy home!
My soul still pants for thee;
Then shall my labours have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.


When I Survey

Words: Isaac Watts
Tune: Cathy Steere

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.



Words: S. Medley
Tune: Cathy Steere

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 nigh,
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 will raise;
I in the heavens will sing his praise;
And when in glory I appear,
He'll be my Sanctuary there.