For the Beauty of the Earth

Folliott Pierpont was born in the city of Bath, England on October 7, 1835. It’s a popular holiday destination dye to the Avon River running through the rolling hills allowing warm springs to come from the ground. He left his home to study at Cambridge University, and wrote this poem on returning home at age 29, whilst walking the rolling hills. It was used for communion services in his Anglican church, which is why each stanza ends with “Christ, our God to Thee we raise this our sacrifice of praise”, which later evolved to “Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise”1.

For the beauty of the earth,
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies.

Christ, our God to Thee we raise,
This our sacrifice of praise.

For the wonder of each hour,
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flower,
Sun and moon, and stars of light.


For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth and friends above,
For all gentle thoughts and mild.


For the church, that evermore
Lifteth holy hands above,
Offering up on every shore
Her pure sacrifice of love.


For Thyself, best Gift Divine.
To our race so freely given,
For that great, great love of Thine,
Peace on earth and joy in Heaven.


1 page 212 – Leeman, D. and Leeman, B., 2022. Our Hymns, Our Heritage: A Student Guide to Songs of the Church

Give Me Jesus

This hymn was written by Fanny Crosby, born 1820, who is one of the most renowned hymn writers, often writing under different pseudonyms. Many of Fanny Crosby’s gospels songs were inspired by things that happened to her, or conversations she had, during her long life. Biographer Bernard Ruffin quotes from Miss Crosby’s book Memories of Eighty Years, concerning one such: “Fanny was talking to one of her neighbours, who complained bitterly of his poverty. “If I had wealth I would be able to do just what I wish to do; and I would be able to make an appearance [i.e. an impression] in the world.” Fanny replied, “Well, take the world, but give me Jesus.” She later turned that comment into the below song. As you likely know, Fanny Crosby was blind. However, she not only refused to count this as a disability, but was able to testify that it gave her certain advantages. She saw things with the eyes of faith, and with a poet’s insight, that others of us so often miss. It’s not surprising that many of her gospel songs refer either to this spiritual sight, or to the joy that would be hers when the first face she sees in Glory will be that of her Saviour1.

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
All its joys are but a name;
But his love abides forever,
Through eternal years the same.

Oh, the height and depth of mercy!
Oh, the length and breadth of love!
Oh, the fullness of redemption,
Pledge of endless life above!

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
Sweetest comfort of my soul;
With the Saviour watching o’er me,
I can sing, though thunders roll.


Take the world, but give me Jesus;
In his cross my trust shall be
‘Till with clearer, brighter vision
Face to face my Lord I see.


The Sands of Time Are Sinking

Anne Cousin was born on Ap­ril 27, 1824 in Kings­ton-up­on-Hull, York­shire, Eng­land. The daughter of a doc­tor, Anne mar­ried Will­iam Cou­sin, pas­tor of the Free Church of Mel­rose, Scotland. She con­trib­ut­ed ma­ny po­ems to var­i­ous per­i­od­ic­als; se­ven hymns to The Ser­vice of Praise (Ed­in­burgh, Scot­land, 1865); and one to Psalms and Hymns for Di­vine Wor­ship, 1866, the hym­nal of the En­glish Pres­by­ter­i­an Church. Four of her hymns were in­clud­ed in the Scot­tish Presby­ter­i­an Hym­nal, 1876. The hymn, “The Sands Of Time Are Sinking” is taken from a poem written by Anne Cousin. Cousin poem is based on the classic book “The Letters Of Samuel Rutherford” written in the 17th century1.

The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for –
The fair, sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark had been the midnight
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Emmanuel’s land.

The king there in His beauty,
Without a veil is seen:
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between:
The Lamb with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Emmanuel’s land.

O Christ, He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I’ve tasted
More deep I’ll drink above:
There to an ocean fullness
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Emmanuel’s land.

The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory
But on my King of grace.
Not at the crown He giveth
But on His pierced hand;
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Emmanuel’s land.

O I am my Beloved’s
And my Beloved is mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into His house of wine
I stand upon His merit –
I know no other stand,
Not e’en where glory dwelleth
In Emmanuel’s land.

Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken

Henry Francis Lyte was born in Scotland, 1793. His father abandoned his mother and him and later, he was orphaned at 9 years old with no support. He was invited by Rev. Robert Burrows into his home, accepted as part of his family, and had his education paid for. Henry studied at Divinity School, was ordained at 21 and began preaching at St. Munn’s Church in Taghmon, Ireland. This hymn was written in 1824, when he ministered to Rev. Abraham Swanne who was dying. They both studied the Scriptures together and realised they were both blind guides. After coming to a saving knowledge of Christ, Henry was inspired to write this hymn1.

Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heaven are still my own.

Let the world despise and leave me,
They have left my Saviour, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
O while Thou dost smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me,
Show Thy face and all is bright.

Man may trouble and distress me,
‘Twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure,
Come disaster, scorn and pain
In Thy service, pain is pleasure,
With Thy favor, loss is gain
I have called Thee Abba Father,
I have stayed my heart on Thee
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather;
All must work for good to me.

Soul, then know thy full salvation
Rise o’er sin and fear and care
Joy to find in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father’s smiles are thine,
Think that Jesus died to win thee,
Child of heaven, canst thou repine.

Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith, and winged by prayer.
Heaven’s eternal days before thee,
God’s own hand shall guide us there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days,
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

Rock of Ages

Augustus Toplady was born in England in 1740. His father was a Royal Marine and died on duty soon after his son’s birth, leaving the boy to be raised by his mother. Toplady had an interest in religion during his younger years, and showed this in spiritual journals and moralistic behavior. However, it wasn’t until his fifteenth year, while attending a Methodist revival in an Irish barn, that he felt “brought nigh to God.” It was at this point that he determined to go into ministry. Toplady wrote a number of hymns in his life, but “Rock of Ages” is by far his most famous. There is a common story of the hymn being inspired by (and even written from within) a rock cleft that Toplady once took refuge in during a storm in North Somerset, England, and it has a plaque on it with this claim to fame. However, the story is probably not true. Louis Benson persuasively argues Toplady was most likely inspired to write the hymn after reading the preface of John and Charles Wesleys’ Hymns on the Lord’s Supper (1745) which contains a prayer voicing many of the themes and words that are also found in the hymn1.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in thee;
let the water and the blood,
from thy wounded side which flowed,
be of sin the double cure;
save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labours of my hands
can fulfill thy law’s commands;
could my zeal no respite know,
could my tears forever flow,
all for sin could not atone;
thou must save, and thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to the cross I cling;
naked, come to thee for dress;
helpless, look to thee for grace;
foul, I to the fountain fly;
wash me, Saviour, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
when mine eyes shall close in death,
when I soar to worlds unknown,
see thee on thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in thee.

I Would Commune with Thee, My God

George Burden Bubier, son of Rev. William Bubier, was born in Reading, UK on Feb. 2, 1823. After serving for some time in a bank at Banbury, he prepared for the Congregational Ministry, at Homerton College. He was successively pastor of congregations at Orsett, Essex, 1844; Union Chapel, Brixton; Cambridge; and Hope Chapel, Salford, 1854. In 1864 he was appointed Professor of Theology and Philosophy at Spring Hill Congregational College, Birmingham. He died at Acock’s Green, near Birmingham, March 19, 1869. In 1855 he was joint editor with Dr. George Macdonald of Hymns and Sacred Songs for Sunday Schools and Social Worship, where you can find this hymn about communion with God; enjoy!

I would commune with Thee, my God;
E’en to Thy seat I come:
I leave my joys, I leave my sins,
And seek in Thee my home.

I stand upon the mount of God,
With sunlight in my soul;
I hear the storms in vales beneath,
I hear the thunders roll;

But I am calm with Thee, my God,
Beneath these glorious skies;
And to the height on which I stand,
Nor storms nor clouds can rise.

Oh, this is life! Oh, this is joy,
My God, to find Thee so!
Thy face to see, Thy voice to hear,
And all Thy love to know!

Your Will Be Done

This next song is written and performed by CityAlight, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this one!

Your will be done, my God and Father
As in Heaven, so on earth.
My heart is drawn to self exalting,
Help me seek Your kingdom first.

As Jesus walked, so I shall walk,
Held by Your same unchanging love.
Be still my soul
Oh, lift your voice and pray,
Father not my will but Yours be done.

How in that garden he persisted,
I may never fully know.
The fearful weight of true obedience,
It was held by him alone.

What wondrous faith, to bear that cross,
To bear my sin, what wondrous love.
My hope was sure
When there my Saviour prayed,
Father not my will but Yours be done.

When I am lost, when I am broken,
In the night of fear and doubt.
Still I will trust in my good Father
Yes, to one great King I bow!

As Jesus rose, so I shall rise,
In ransomed glory at the throne.
My heart restored
With all your saints I sing,
Father, not my will but Yours be done.

As we go forth, our God and Father,
Lead us daily in the fight.
That all the world might see Your glory,
And Your Name be lifted high.

And in this Name we overcome,
For You shall see us safely home.
Now as your church
We lift our voice and pray,
Father, not my will but Yours be done.

There Is No Sin That I Have Done

This modern hymn is written by Eric Schumacher & David L. Ward. “A Christian is one who has been set free from the power and penalty of sin, both in this life and in the next, through the only means that God has given for such redemption, the substitutionary death of Jesus who took the awful punishment for sin that we deserved. (1 Peter 2:24; 1 John 2:2) This central message of the Christian faith is our deepest delight and surest anchor and deserves to be on our hearts and lips every day”. This message is also the central theme of this song; enjoy!

There is no sin that I have done
That has such height and breadth
It can’t be washed in Jesus’ blood
Or covered by His death.
There is no spot that still remains,
No cause to hide my face,
For He has stooped to wash me clean
And covered me with grace.

There is no wrath that I will know,
No wormwood and no gall;
For though such wounds and grief I earned
My Saviour bore them all.
There is no work that I must add
To stand before His throne.
I only plead His life and death
Sufficient on their own.

There is no love that I desire
But Jesus’ warm embrace.
While now I know His love by faith
I long to see His face.
There is no song that I will sing,
No melody but this,
That my Beloved, He is mine,
For He has made me His.

How Great Thou Art

In 1885, Carl Boberg, a Swedish editor and future politician, was walking home in the bayside town of Mönsterås. A thunderhead appeared on the horizon and ightning flashed. Thunderclaps shook the air, sending Boberg running for shelter. When the storm began to relent, he rushed home. He opened his windows to let in the fresh bay air, and the vision of tranquility that greeted him stirred something deep in his soul. The sky had cleared. Thrushes sang, and in the distance, the resonant knell of church bells sounded. With the juxtaposition between the roaring thunderstorm and such bucolic calm as background, Boberg sat down and wrote “O Store Gud”—the poem that, through a winding series of events would become “How Great Thou Art.”1

“How Great Thou Art” Lyrics

O Lord my God, When I, in awesome wonder, 
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made; 
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, 
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee, 
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee, 
How great Thou art, How great Thou art! 

When through the woods and forest glades I wander, 
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.


And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing; 
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in; 
That on a Cross, my burdens gladly bearing, 
He bled and died to take away my sin.


When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation, 
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration, 
And then proclaim: “My God, how great Thou art!”


Come, Ye Thankful People, Come

Henry Alford was a minister’s son, and the fifth consecutive generation of ministers. After graduating from Trinity College, Cambridge, he entered the Anglican ministry and rose quickly from one position to another until he became the Dean of Canterbury. He was well known as a Greek scholar who spent twenty years writing his four-volume edition of the Greek Testament. He was musically gifted as well and wrote several books of hymns. A devout man, it is said that at the end of every day and every meal, he would stand and thank God for his love care and gifts1.

Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest home;
All is safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide
For our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come,
Raise the song of harvest home.

All the world is God’s own field,
Fruit as praise to God we yield;
Wheat and tares together sown
Are to joy or sorrow grown;
First the blade and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear;
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come,
And shall take the harvest home;
From the field shall in that day
All offenses purge away,
Giving angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store
In the garner evermore.

Even so, Lord, quickly come,
Bring thy final harvest home;
Gather thou thy people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin,
There, forever purified,
In thy presence to abide;
Come, with all thine angels, come,
Raise the glorious harvest home.

1page 210 – Leeman, D. and Leeman, B., 2022. Our Hymns, Our Heritage: A Student Guide to Songs of the Church