Above: One of My Crucifixes
Photographer = Kenneth Randolph Taylor
Hymn Source = The Church Hymnary–Revised Edition (1927)
Text (1875) by Henry Williams Baker (1821-1877)
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O perfect life of love!
All, all is finished now,
All that He left His throne above
To do for us below.
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No work is left undone
Of all the Father willed;
His toils and sorrows, one by one,
The Scripture have fulfilled.
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No pain that we can share
But He has felt its smart;
All forms of human grief and care
Have pierced that tender heart.
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And on His thorn-crowned head,
And on His sinless soul,
Our sins in all their guild were laid,
That He might make us whole.
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In perfect love He dies;
For me He dies, for me!
I all-atoning Sacrifice,
I cling by faith to Thee.
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In every time of need,
Before the judgment throne,
Thy work, O Lamb of God, I’ll plead,
Thy merits, not my own.
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Yet work, O Lord, in me,
As thou for me hast wrought;
And let my love the answer be
To grace Thy love has brought.
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Above: Part of My Biblical Studies Library, September 15, 2019
Photographer = Kenneth Randolph Taylor
Text (1861) by Henry Williams Baker (1821-1877)
Hymn Source = The Church Hymnary–Revised Edition (1927)
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Lord, Thy word abideth,
And our footsteps guideth;
Who its truth believeth
Light and joy receiveth.
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When our foes are near us,
Then Thy word doth cheer us,
Word of consolation,
Message of salvation.
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When the storms are o’er us,
And dark clouds before us,
Then its light directeth,
And our way protecteth.
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Who can tell the pleasure,
Who recount the treasure,
By Thy word imparted
To the simple-hearted?
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Word of mercy, giving
Succour to the living;
Word of life, supplying
Comfort to the dying!
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O that we, discerning
Its most holy learning,
Lord, may love and fear Thee,
Evermore be near Thee!
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Above: Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament of Our Lady of the Angels Monastery, Hanceville, Alabama
Image in the Public Domain
Hymn Source = The Church Hymnary–Revised Hymnary (1927)
Text (1875) by Henry Baker Williams (1821-1877)
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I am not worthy, holy Lord,
That Thou should’st come to me;
Speak but the word; one gracious word
Can set the sinner free.
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I am not worthy; cold and bare
The lodging of my soul;
How canst Thou deign to enter there?
Lord, speak, and make me whole.
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I am not worthy; yet my God,
How can I say Thee nay, —
Thee, who didst give Thy flesh and blood
My ransom price to pay?
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O come, in this sweet morning hour,
Feed me with food divine;
And fill with all Thy love and power
This worthless heart of mine.
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One may substitute “evening” for “morning” in the last stanza.
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Above: Christ Pantocrator
Scan by Kenneth Randolph Taylor
Text (1893) by Somerset Corry Lowry (1855-1932)
Hymn Source = The Church Hymnary–Revised Edition (1927), Presbyterian
This hymn, originally entitled “For Unity,” debuted in the February 1894 issue of Goodwill then graced The Christian Social Union Hymnbook (1895).
Lowry wrote more than 60 hymns, but this text has become the most popular and enduring one.
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Son of God, eternal Saviour,
Source of life and truth and grace,
Son of Man, whose birth incarnate
Hallows all our human race;
Thou, our Head, who, throned in glory,
For Thine own dost ever plead,
Fill us with Thy love and pity,
Heal our wrongs and help our need.
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As Thou, Lord, hast lived for others,
So may we for others live;
Freely have Thy gifts been granted,
Freely may Thy servants give.
Thine the gold and Thine the silver,
Thine the wealth of land and sea,
We but stewards of Thy bounty,
Held in solemn trust for Thee.
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Come, O Christ, and reign among us,
King of love, and Prince of peace;
Hush the storm of strife and passion,
Bid its cruel discords cease.
Ah, the past is dark behind us,
Strewn with wrecks and stained with blood;
But before us gleams the vision
Of the coming brotherhood.
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See the Christlike host advancing,
High and lowly, great and small,
Linked in bonds of common service
For the common Lord of all.
Thou who prayedst, Thou who willest
That Thy people should be one,
Grant, O grant our hope’s fruition:
Here on earth Thy will be done.
Above: Christ Calmeth the Tempest, by John Martin
Image in the Public Domain
Text by Frank Mason North (1850-1935)
Hymn Source = The Methodist Hymnal (1905), Methodist Episcopal Church and Methodist Episcopal Church, South
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Jesus, the calm that fills my breast,
No other heart than thine can give;
This peace unstirred, this joy of rest,
None but thy loved ones can receive.
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My weary soul has found a charm
That turns to blessedness my woe;
Within the shelter of thine arm,
I rest secure from storm and foe.
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In desert wastes I feel no dread,
Fearless I walk the trackless sea;
I care not where my way is led,
Since all my life is life with thee.
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O Christ, through changeful years my Guide,
My Comforter in sorrow’s night,
My friend, when friendless–still abide,
My Lord, my Counselor, my Light.
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My time, my powers, I give to thee;
My inmost soul ’tis thine to move;
I wait for thy eternity,
I wait, in peace, in praise, in love.
Above: Frank Mason North
Image in the Public Domain
Frank Mason North (1850-1935), a minister in the Methodist Episcopal Church, was an ecumenist, an urban missionary, and a social reformer. He, a Christian Socialist, was active in the movement to end child labor.
He wrote at least eight hymns.
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O Master of the Waking World:
https://gatheredprayers.wordpress.com/2019/06/24/o-master-of-the-waking-world/
Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life:
https://gatheredprayers.wordpress.com/2011/06/26/where-cross-the-crowded-ways-of-life/
Jesus, the Calm that Fills My Breast:
https://gatheredprayers.wordpress.com/2019/06/26/jesus-the-calm-that-fills-my-breast/
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Above: A World Map from 1570
Image in the Public Domain
Text (1928) by Frank Mason North (1850-1935)
Hymn Source = The Methodist Hymnal (1935), Methodist Episcopal Church; Methodist Episcopal Church, South; and Methodist Protestant Church
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O Master of the waking world,
Who hast the nations in Thy heart–
The heart that bled and broke to send
God’s love to earth’s remotest part:
Show us anew in Calvary
The wondrous power that makes men free.
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On every side the walls are down,
The gates swing wide to every land,
The restless tribes and races feel
The pressure of Thy pierced hand;
The way is in the sea and air,
Thy world is open everywhere.
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We hear the throb of surging life,
The clank of chains, the curse of greed,
The moan of pain, the futile cries
Of superstition’s cruel creed;
The peoples hunger for Thee, Lord,
The isles are waiting for Thy word.
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Thy witness in the souls of men,
Thy Spirit’s ceaseless, brooding power,
In lands where shadows hide the light,
Await a new creative hour:
O mighty God, set us aflame
To show the glory of Thy Name.
