Refrain
I am in my Father’s keeping, I am in His tender care; Whether waking, whether sleeping, I am in His care.
Sometimes dark clouds hang o’er me, Not one step I see before me, Still, my Savior, I adore Thee, I am in His keeping. I can trust His hand to guide me, ’Neath His wings He’ll safely hide me, And no harm can e’er betide me, I am in His care.
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Gentle eventide is nearing, Light from heaven disappearing, Still the blessèd tho’t so cheering, I am in His keeping. Now night’s curtains gather ’round me, Yet its dangers have not found me, For His angel guards surround me, I am in His care.
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Refrain
The fight is on, O Christian soldier, And face to face in stern array, With armor gleaming, and colors streaming, The right and wrong engage today! The fight is on, but be not weary; Be strong, and in His might hold fast; If God be for us, His banner o’er us, We’ll sing the victor’s song at last!
The fight is on, arouse, ye soldiers brave and true! Jehovah leads, and victory will assure; Go buckle on the armor God has given you, And in His strength unto the end endure.
Refrain
The Lord is leading on to certain victory; The bow of promise spans the eastern sky; His glorious Name in every land shall honored be; The morn will break, the dawn of peace is nigh.
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Who is this that cometh from Edom, Crimson red His garments dyed? In His hands are cruel nail prints, And a spear wound in His side? Say, who is this “Man of Sorrows”? Why is He thus pierced and scarred? Who with face and form so kingly! Why His beauteous visage marred?
Refrain
It is Christ, the King of glory, Who His life a ransom gave, Bow before Him, and adore Him, Jesus Christ the mighty to save.
Who is this, despised and rejected, Who the winepress trod alone? Who is this by all forsaken, Left to comfort there are none? Who is this oppressed, afflicted, Yet no murmur ever heard; As a Lamb led to the slaughter, Yet He answers not a word!
Refrain
Who is this with bearing so kingly, And a crown His brow adorns, Not of gold and gems befitting, But of mocking, cruel thorns? Why with many stripes thus beaten? Why thus scourged and spit upon? Why His anguish in the garden, Kneeling, praying all alone?
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Who is this on Calvary’s mountain, Dying there such shameful death? Who for His tormentors praying, With His last expiring breath? Who is this that earth should tremble And the sun in darkness hide, Rocks be rent and graves be opened, When He bowed His head and died?
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