Psalms 24-26
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1 OUR Lord is risen from the dead; Our Jesus is gone up on high; The powers of hell are captive led— Dragg'd to the portals of the sky.
2 There His triumphal chariot waits, And angels chant the solemn lay;— "Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates Ye everlasting doors, give way!"
3 Loose all your bars of massy light, And wide unfold the ethereal scene; He claims those mansions as His right:— Receive the King of Glory in.
4 "Who is the King of Glory, who?" The Lord, that all His foes o'ercame; The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew, And Jesus is the Conqueror's name.
5 Lo! His triumphal chariot waits, And angels chant the solemn lay;— "Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates! Ye everlasting doors, give way!"
6 "Who is the King of Glory, who?" The Lord of glorious power possess'd, The King of saints and angels too; God over all, for ever bless'd! Charles Wesley, 1741.
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1 MINE eyes and my desire Are ever to the Lord; I love to plead His promises, And rest upon His word.
2 When shall the sovereign grace Of my forgiving God, Restore me from those dang'rous ways My wandering feet have trod?
3 The tumult of my thoughts Doth but enlarge my woe; My spirit languishes, my heart Is desolate and low.
4 With every morning-light My sorrow new begins; Look on my anguish and my pain, And pardon all my sins.
5 Oh keep my soul from death, Nor put my hope to shame; For I have placed my only trust In my Redeemer's name.
6 With humble faith I wait To see Thy face again; Of Israel it shall ne'er be said, "He sought the Lord in vain." Isaac Watts, 1719.
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1 LORD, I delight to find my place Within the temples of Thy grace; Where all Thy heavenly beauties dwell, And earth's sublimest pomp excel.
2 There, where Thy saints Thy glory see, Let my fix'd rest, my dwelling be; Nor 'midst the ungodly race consign The soul which loves Thy courts to join.
3 Fix'd in Thy ways my feet shall stand, And wait the guidance of Thy hand; Then 'midst Thy church, with sweet accord, I'll join my praise, all-gracious Lord! William Goode, 1811.
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