Some of our most beloved hymns:
Here are some of the hymn's we have come to love and cherish. These are not found in our regular Church Hymnal, but are being gathered into a supliment. How we love to sing the old hymns of the faith!
You can find all these hymns, and hear the tunes by simply going to cyberhymnal.com, and under hymn titles, click the first initial of the title, scroll down until you find it.
Westminster's Faith of Our Father's
Hymnal
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All the hymns shown on this page are hyperlinked to Hymntime.com where you will find nearly 10,000 hymns, many wonderful hymn stories and interesting biogaphical information on the composers
Here Is Love
Here Is Love, has been called the "Love hymn of the great Welsh Revival."
We often sing this hymn when celebrating the Lord's Supper.
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.
Words: William Rees (1802-1883), verses 1-2 (Dyma gariad fel y moroedd); William Williams possibly wrote verses 3-4
Where Shall My Wondering Soul Begin?
Where shall my wondering soul begin?
How shall I all to heaven aspire?
A slave redeemed from death and sin,
A brand plucked from eternal fire,
How shall I equal triumphs raise,
Or sing my great Deliverer’s praise?
O how shall I the goodness tell,
Father, which Thou to me hast showed?
That I, a child of wrath and hell,
I should be called a child of God,
Should know, should feel my sins forgiven,
Blessed with this antepast of Heaven!
And shall I slight my Father’s love?
Or basely fear His gifts to own?
Unmindful of His favors prove?
Shall I, the hallowed cross to shun,
Refuse His righteousness to impart,
By hiding it within my heart?
No! though the ancient dragon rage,
And call forth all his host to war,
Though earth’s self-righteous sons engage
Them and their god alike I dare;
Jesus, the sinner’s friend, proclaim;
Jesus, to sinners still the same.
Outcasts of men, to you I call,
Harlots, and publicans, and thieves!
He spreads His arms to embrace you all;
Sinners alone His grace receives;
No need of Him the righteous have;
He came the lost to seek and save.
Come, O my guilty brethren, come,
Groaning beneath your load of sin,
His bleeding heart shall make you room,
His open side shall take you in;
He calls you now, invites you home;
Come, O my guilty brethren, come!
For you the purple current flowed
In pardons from His wounded side,
Languished for you the eternal God,
For you the Prince of glory died:
Believe, and all your sin’s forgiven;
Only believe, and yours is Heaven!
Words by Charles Wesley, Hymns and Sacred Poems, 1739.
Songs in the Night.
Job speaks of God who “giveth songs in the night.” John Welch, the old Scotch minister, used to put a plaid across the bed on cold nights, and some one asked him why he put it there. He said, “Oh, sometimes in the night I want to sing the praises of Jesus, and to get down and pray; then I just take that plaid and wrap it around me to keep myself from the cold."
Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy
Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love and power.
Refrain
I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms;
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O there are ten thousand charms.
Come, ye thirsty, come, and welcome,
God’s free bounty glorify;
True belief and true repentance,
Every grace that brings you nigh.
Refrain
Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Lost and ruined by the fall;
If you tarry till you’re better,
You will never come at all.
Refrain
View Him prostrate in the garden;
On the ground your Maker lies.
On the bloody tree behold Him;
Sinner, will this not suffice?
Refrain
Lo! th’incarnate God ascended,
Pleads the merit of His blood:
Venture on Him, venture wholly,
Let no other trust intrude.
Refrain
Let not conscience make you linger,
Not of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him.
Refrain
Joseph Hart (1712 -1768)
I’m A Pilgrim
I’m a pilgrim, and I’m a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry
But a night;
Do not detain me, for I am going
To where the fountains
Are ever flowing.
I’m a pilgrim and I’m a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.
There the glory is ever shining!
O, my longing heart,
My longing heart is there;
Here in this country
So dark and dreary,
I long have wandered
Forlorn and weary.
I’m a pilgrim and I’m a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.
There’s the city
To which I journey;
My Redeemer, my Redeemer
Is the Light!
There is no sorrow,
Nor any sighing,
Nor any tears there, or any dying.
I’m a pilgrim and I’m a stranger;
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.
Words by: Mary S. B. Dana, 1841 (1810-1883)
Take Me As I am
Years ago, while revival meetings were being held in one of the large towns in Scotland, a young girl became anxious about her spiritual condition. Returning from one of the meetings, she went to her own minister and asked him how she might be saved.
Ah, lassie,
he said, don’t be alarmed! Just read your Bible and say your prayers, and you will be all right.
But the poor, illiterate girl cried out: O Minister, I canna read, I canna pray! Lord Jesus, take me as I am!
In this way the girl became a follower of Christ; and a lady who heard of the girl’s experience wrote this hymn…I found the verses in a religious newspaper and set them to the simple music by which they are now most generally known. At the same time Mr. Stebbins also found the verses and set them to music, and he sent them to me at the same time that I was sending my tune for the same words to him. In “Gospel Hymns” both tunes are published.
A minister in England writes to me about a Christian woman, a shoemaker’s wife, who had a lodger that was an obstinate unbeliever. The good woman often tried to induce him to go to meetings, but in vain. Tracts which she placed on the table in his room she found crushed on the floor. She would smooth them out and again place them so as to attract his attention, but he would read nothing but his novels and newspapers. One spring the old man fell ill with bronchitis. The good woman acted as his nurse, for he had no relatives who cared for him. She used the opportunity, often speaking to him about his soul and reading the Word of God; but she could make no impression upon him. One day she was reading the hymn Jesus, my Lord, to Thee I cry,
and when she came to the refrain, the old man called out to her sharply: That’s not in the book!
The woman answered, Why yes, it is.
He declared again that he did not believe it was in the book. The good woman told him that he could read it for himself. He asked for his glasses, and read with wonder and amazement, again and again, My only plea—Christ died for me! oh, take me as I am.
A few weeks afterward he said to the woman one morning, I am going home to-day, and I am so happy, so happy!
In an hour or two he passed away, repeating those words to the last.
Sankey, pp. 252-3
Jesus, my Lord, to Thee I cry;
Unless Thou help me I must die;
Oh, bring Thy free salvation nigh,
And take me as I am.
And take me as I am,
And take me as I am,
My only plea—Christ died for me!
Oh, take me as I am.
Helpless I am, and full of guilt;
But yet for me Thy blood was spilt,
And Thou canst make me what Thou wilt,
And take me as I am.
And take me as I am,
And take me as I am,
My only plea—Christ died for me!
Oh, take me as I am.
No preparation can I make,
My best resolves I only break,
Yet save me for Thine own Name’s sake,
And take me as I am.
And take me as I am,
And take me as I am,
My only plea—Christ died for me!
Oh, take me as I am.
Behold me, Savior, at Thy feet,
Deal with me as Thou seest meet;
Thy work begin, Thy work complete,
And take me as I am.
And take me as I am,
And take me as I am,
My only plea—Christ died for me!
Oh, take me as I am.
Words: Eliza H. Hamilton.
Is Not This The Land of Beulah?
I am dwelling on the mountain,
Where the golden sunlight gleams
O’er a land whose wondrous beauty
Far exceeds my fondest dreams,
Where the air is pure, ethereal,
Laden with the breath of flowers,
They are blooming by the fountain,
’Neath the amaranthine bow’rs.
Refrain
Is not this the Land of Beulah?
Blessèd, blessèd land of light;
Where the flowers bloom forever,
And the sun is always bright.
I can see far down the mountain,
Where I wandered weary years,
Often hindered in my journey,
By the ghosts of doubt and fears;
Broken vows and disappointments,
Thickly sprinkled all the way,
But the Spirit led, unerring,
To the land I hold today.
Refrain
I am drinking at the fountain,
Where I ever would abide,
For I’ve tasted life’s pure river,
And my soul is satisfied;
There’s no thirsting for life’s pleasures,
Nor adorning rich and gay,
For I’ve found a richer treasure,
One that fadeth not away.
Refrain
Tell me not of heavy crosses,
Nor the burdens hard to bear,
For I’ve found this great salvation
Makes each burden light appear;
And I love to follow Jesus,
Gladly counting all but dross,
Worldly honors all forsaking,
For the glory of the cross.
Refrain
by Harriet W. R. Qua,
Beulah Land
Stiles, the composer writes: It was in 1876 that I wrote ‘Beulah Land.’ I could write only two verses and the chorus, when I was overcome and fell on my face. That was one Sunday. On the following Sunday I wrote the third and fourth verses, and again I was so influenced by emotion that I could only pray and weep. The first time it was sung was at the regular Monday morning meeting of Methodists in Philadelphia [Pennsylvania]. Bishop McCabe sang it to the assembled ministers. Since then it is known wherever religious people congregate. I have never received a cent for my songs. Perhaps that is why they have had such a wide popularity. I could not do work for the Master and receive pay for it.
I’ve reached the land of corn and wine,
And all its riches freely mine;
Here shines undimmed one blissful day,
For all my night has passed away.
O Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land,
As on thy highest mount I stand,
I look away across the sea,
Where mansions are prepared for me,
And view the shining glory shore,
My Heav’n, my home forever more!
My Savior comes and walks with me,
And sweet communion here have we;
He gently leads me by His hand,
For this is Heaven’s border land.
O Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land,
As on thy highest mount I stand,
I look away across the sea,
Where mansions are prepared for me,
And view the shining glory shore,
My Heav’n, my home forever more!
A sweet perfume upon the breeze,
Is borne from ever vernal trees,
And flow’rs, that never fading grow
Where streams of life forever flow.
O Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land,
As on thy highest mount I stand,
I look away across the sea,
Where mansions are prepared for me,
And view the shining glory shore,
My Heav’n, my home forever more!
The zephyrs seem to float to me,
Sweet sounds to Heaven’s melody,
As angels with the white robed throng
Join in the sweet redemption song.
O Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land,
As on thy highest mount I stand,
I look away across the sea,
Where mansions are prepared for me,
And view the shining glory shore,
My Heav’n, my home forever more!
Words: Edgar P. Stites
A Gladsome Hymn Of Praise We Sing
A gladsome hymn of praise we sing,
And thankfully we gather
To bless the love of God above,
Our everlasting Father.
Refrain
In Him rejoice with heart and voice
Whose glory fadeth never,
Whose providence is our defense,
Who lives and loves forever.
From shades of night He calls the light,
And from the sod the flower;
From every cloud His blessings break
In sunshine or in shower.
Refrain
Full in His sight His children stand,
By His strong arm defended,
And He whose wisdom guides the world,
Our footsteps hath attended.
Refrain
For nothing falls unknown to Him,
Or care or joy or sorrow,
And He whose mercy ruled the past
Will be our stay tomorrow.
Refrain
Then praise the Lord with one accord,
To His great Name give glory,
And of His never changing love
Repeat the wondrous story.
Refrain
Words: Ambrose Nichols Blatchford 1842-1924
There is a spot to me more dear
Than native vale or mountain;
A spot for which affection’s tear
Springs grateful from its fountain.
’Tis not where kindred souls abound,
Though that is almost Heaven,
But where I first my Savior found,
And felt my sins forgiven.
Hard was my toil to reach the shore,
Long tossed upon the ocean;
Above me was the thunder’s roar,
Beneath, the wave’s commotion.
Darkly the pall of night was thrown
Around me faint with terror;
In that dark hour how did my groan
Ascend for years of error.
Sinking and panting as for breath
I knew not help was near me;
I cried, Oh, save me, Lord from death,
Immortal Jesus, hear me.
Then quick as thought I felt Him mine,
My Savior stood before me;
I saw His brightness round me shine,
And shouted Glory, Glory.
O sacred hour! O hallowed spot!
Where love divine first found me;
Wherever falls my distant lot,
My heart shall linger round thee.
And when from earth I rise, to soar
Up to my home in Heaven,
Down will I cast my eyes once more,
Where I was first forgiven.
Words by William Hunter
Lord, I Am Fondly, Earnestly Longing
Lord, I am fondly, earnestly longing
Into Thy holy likeness to grow;
Thirsting for more and deeper communion,
Yearning Thy love more fully to know.
Refrain
Open the wells of grace and salvation,
Pour the rich streams deep into my heart;
Cleanse and refine my thought and affection,
Seal me and make me pure as Thou art.
Dead to the world would I be, O Father!
Dead unto sin, alive unto Thee;
Crucify all the earthly within me,
Emptied of sin and self may I be.
Refrain
I would be Thine, and serve Thee forever,
Filled with Thy Spirit, lost in Thy love;
Come to my heart, Lord, come with anointing,
Showers of grace send down from above.
Refrain
My Latest Sun Is Sinking Fast
My latest sun is sinking fast,
My race is nearly run;
My strongest trials now are past,
My triumph is begun.
Refrain
O come, angel band,
Come and around me stand;
O bear me away on your snowy wings
To my eternal home;
O bear me away on your snowy wings
To my eternal home.
I know I’m near the holy ranks
Of friends and kindred dear,
For I hear the waves on Jordan’s banks,
The crossing must be near.
Refrain
I’ve almost reached my heav’nly home,
My spirit loudly sings;
Thy holy ones, behold, they come!
I hear the noise of wings.
Refrain
O bear my longing heart to Him,
Who bled and died for me;
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin,
And gives me victory.
Refrain
The Hymn of the Battlefield
When I Can Read My Title Clear
by
Isaac Watts
Headley relates, in his Life of General Grant, that as the wounded were borne from the field of Shiloh, a fatally wounded captain, after speaking of his sufferings through the preceding night, said : " I could not help singing that beautiful hymn : —' When I can read my title clear.' And there was a Christian brother in the brush near me. I could not see him, but I could hear him. He took up the strain, and beyond him another and another caught it up, all over the terrible battle-field of Shiloh. That night the echo was resounding, and we made the field of battle ring with hymns of praise to God."
When I can read my title clear to mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear, and wipe my weeping eyes.
And wipe my weeping eyes, and wipe my weeping eyes
I bid farewell to every fear, and wipe my weeping eyes.
Should earth against my soul engage, and hellish darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage, and face a frowning world.
And face a frowning world, and face a frowning world,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage, and face a frowning world.
Let cares, like a wild deluge come, and storms of sorrow fall!
May I but safely reach my home, my God, my heav’n, my All.
My God, my heaven, my All, my God, my heave’, my All,
May I but safely reach my home, my God, my heaven, my All.
There shall I bathe my weary soul in seas of heav’nly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll, across my peaceful breast.
Across my peaceful breast, across my peaceful breast,
And not a wave of trouble roll, across my peaceful breast.
Cowper in his poem intitled "Truth" compares the lot of the infidel Voltaire with that of a poor and believing cottager who
Just knows, and knows not more, her Bible ---
A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew:
And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes
Her title to a treasure in the skies.
Nutter, p. 231
Is this the kind return,
And These The Thanks We owe
by Isaac Watts
Is this the kind return,
And these the thanks we owe,
Thus to abuse eternal love,
Whence all our blessings flow?
To what a stubborn frame
Has sin reduced our mind!
What strange rebellious wretches we,
And God as strangely kind!
On us He bids the sun
Shed his reviving rays;
For us the skies their circles run,
To lengthen out our days.
The brutes obey their God,
And bow their necks to men;
But we, more base, more brutish things,
Reject His easy reign.
Turn, turn us, mighty God,
And mold our souls afresh;
Break, sov’reign grace, these hearts of stone,
And give us hearts of flesh.
Let old ingratitude
Provoke our weeping eyes,
And hourly as new mercies fall
Let hourly thanks arise.
There is a Happy Land
Andrew Young
1807-1891
There Is A Happy Land
(click title to hear the music)
There is a happy land, far, far away,
Where saints in glory stand, bright, bright as day.
Oh, how they sweetly sing, worthy is our Savior king,
Loud let His praises ring, praise, praise for aye.
Come to that happy land, come, come away;
Why will ye doubting stand, why still delay?
Oh, we shall happy be, when from sin and sorrow free,
Lord, we shall live with Thee, blest, blest for aye.
Bright, in that happy land, beams every eye;
Kept by a Father’s hand, love cannot die.
Oh, then to glory run; be a crown and kingdom won;
And, bright, above the sun, we reign for aye.
college student in Virginia was very proud of his intellectual abilities, and thought that if he ever became a Christian it would be through an eloquent sermon of some distinguished pulpit orator. While hunting dear during a vacation he as drawn to a gorge far away in the mountains, by the sound of a sweet female voice engaged in singing. As he drew nearer he recognized the words
There is a happy land
Far, far away.
At lentgth he perceived a log cabin, and an old female slave, with hair as white as snow, standing without at her as tub singing away as though her heart was over-flowing with gladness. She was unusually tall and very strait. As the young student stood enchanted with the romantic scene, he found that she was also blind, and, as she kept on singing and washing, her happy soul would become so full of joy that she would stop washing, for a while straightening up, an turning her sightless eye-balls heavenward, and would make the surrounding rocks and mountains ring as her joyful voice would sing:---
There is a land of pure delight
Where saints immortal reign.
At length the student said to her, “Auntie,” I see you are blind?” "No, massa,” she said, “ I"z not blind. I can’t see you, nor dese trees, nor dese rocks, nor dese mountains, but I can see into de kingdom. I can see de 'happy land, far, far away.'”
The young student was so impressed with what he saw and heard that, from that time on, he was deeply convicted of sin, and rested not till he found rest in Jesus.
He eventually became a minister, and told the author that the echo of that happy slave’s song still follows him.
