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Honor And Praise, O Christ, Receive
Author: Charles Wesley Meter: 8.8.8.8.8.8 Appears in 1 hymnal Lyrics: 1 Honor and praise, O Christ, receive.
Through whom Thy saving name we know,
Thou gav’st us freely to believe,
And dost a second grace bestow;
Call us to bear the hallowed cross,
And suffer, for Thy glorious cause.
2 Because from sin we turn away,
And will not from Thy paths depart,
Lo! we have made ourselves a prey:
Spoiled of our goods with cheerful heart.
We here our little all restore,
And would, but cannot part with more.
3 Far better goods we have above,
And substance more enduring far,
The earnest in our hearts we prove,
And taste the joys that wait us there;
Riches of grace, so freely given,
And Christ in us, and Christ in Heaven.
4 Our heavenly wealth shall never fail,
Our fund of everlasting bliss,
Thieves do not there break through and steal,
Nor Belial’s sons by violence seize,
They cannot spoil our goods above,
Or rob us of our Savior’s love.
5 In Him we have immortal food,
Clothing that always shall endure,
A permanent and fixed abode,
A heavenly house that standeth sure,
Who here are destitute of bread,
And want a place to lay our head.
6 Spoiler, take all! We will not grieve,
We will not of our loss complain:
Of freedom and of life bereave,
Our better lot shall still remain,
Enough for us the part divine,
The good, which never can be thine. Used With Tune: MACEDON Text Sources: Hymns for Times of Trouble and Persecution by John and Charles Wesley (London: Strahan, 1744)
Honor And Praise, O Christ, Receive
The Last Loud Trumpet's Wondrous Sound
Author: Wentworth Dillon, circa 1633-1685 Meter: 8.8.8.8.8.8 Appears in 15 hymnals First Line: The last loud trumpet’s wondrous sound Lyrics: 1 The last loud trumpet’s wondrous sound
Shall through the rending tombs rebound,
And wake the nations under ground;
Nature and death shall with surprise
Behold the pale offenders rise,
And view the Judge with conscious eyes.
2 Then shall, with universal dread,
The sacred mystic book be read,
To try the living and the dead.
The Judge ascends His awful throne,
He makes each secret sin be known,
And all with shame confess their own.
3 Oh, then, what interest shall I make,
With whom shall I my refuge take,
When the most just have cause to quake;
Thou mighty, formidable King,
Thou mercy’s unexhausted spring,
Some comfortable pity bring.
4 Thou who for me didst feel such pain,
Whose precious blood the cross did stain,
Let not those agonies be in vain;
Forget not what my ransom cost,
Nor let my dear-bought soul be lost,
In storms of guilty terror tossed.
5 Give my exalted soul a place
Among Thy chosen right-hand race,
The sons of God, and heirs of grace;
Trembling before Thy throne I bend
My God, my Father, and my friend,
Do not forsake me in the end.
Used With Tune: MACEDON
The Last Loud Trumpet's Wondrous Sound
