The Old Guys

Approach, my soul, the mercy seat,
Where Jesus answers prayer;
There humbly fall before His feet,
For none can perish there.

Thy promise is my only plea,
With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to Thee,
And such, O Lord, am I.

Bowed down beneath a load of sin,
By Satan sorely pressed,
By war without and fears within,
I come to Thee for rest.

Be Thou my Shield and hiding Place,
That, sheltered near Thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,
And tell him Thou hast died!

O wondrous love! to bleed and die,
To bear the cross and shame,
That guilty sinners, such as I,
Might plead Thy gracious Name.

“Poor tempest-tossèd soul, be still;
My promised grace receive”;
’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will,
I can, I do believe.

~John Newton~

Our Own Hymn-Book (Pasadena, TX; Pilgrim Publications; 2002) p.133.

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Tags: John Newton, Our Own Hymn-Book

Now let us join with hearts and tongues,
And emulate the angels’ songs;
Yea, sinners may address their King
In songs that angels cannot sing.

They praise the Lamb who once was slain;
But we can add a higher strain;
Not only say, “He suffer’d thus,
“But that he suffer’d all for us.”

When angels by transgression fell,
Justice consign’d them all to hell;
But Mercy form’d a wondrous plan,
To save and honour fallen man.

Jesus, who pass’d the angels by,
Assum’d our flesh to bleed and die;
And still he makes it his abode;
As man he fills the throne of God.

Our next of kin, our Brother now,
Is he to whom the angels bow;
They join with us to praise his name,
But we the nearest int’rest claim.

But, ah! how faint our praises rise!
Sure, ’tis the wonder of the skies,
That we, who share his richest love,
So cold and unconcern’d should prove.

Oh, glorious hour, it comes with speed!
When we, from sin and darkness freed,
Shall see the God who died for man,
And praise him more than angels can.

~John Newton~

Our Own Hymn-Book (Pasadena, TX; Pilgrim Publications; 2002) p.66.

Tags: John Newton, Our Own Hymn-Book