The Lord Is My Shepherd
The Lord is my Shepherd, no want shall I know;
I feed in green pastures, safe folded I rest;
He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,
Restores me when wand’ring, redeems when oppressed.
Through valley and shadow of death though I stray,
Since Thou art my Guardian, no evil I fear;
Thy rod shall defend me, Thy staff be my stay;
No harm can befall, with my Comforter near.
In midst of affliction my table is spread;
With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o’er;
With perfume and oil Thou anointest my head;
O what shall I ask of Thy providence more?
Let goodness and mercy, my bountiful God,
Still follow my steps till I meet Thee above;
I seek, by the path which my forefathers trod,
Through land of their sojourn, Thy Kingdom of love.
poem by James Montgomery
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When Jesus Left His Father's Throne
When Jesus left His Father’s throne,
He chose a humble birth;
Like us, unhonored and unknown,
He came to dwell on earth.
Like Him may we be found below,
In wisdom’s path of peace;
Like Him in grace and knowledge grow,
As years and strength increase.
Sweet were His words and kind His look,
When mothers round Him pressed;
Their infants in His arms He took,
And on His bosom blessed.
Safe from the world’s alluring harms,
Beneath His watchful eye,
Thus in the circle of His arms
May we forever lie.
When Jesus into Zion rode,
The children sang around;
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poem by James Montgomery
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For ever with the Lord!
'For ever with the Lord!'
Amen, so let it be;
Life from the dead is in that word,
'Tis immortality.
Here in the body pent,
Absent from Him I roam;
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home.
My father's house on high,
Home of my soul, how near;
At times to faith's foreseeing eye,
Thy golden gates appear!
In darkness as in light
Hidden alike from view,
I sleep, I wake within his sight
Who looks existence through.
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poem by James Montgomery
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Lord, Teach Us How to Pray Aright
Lord, teach us how to pray aright,
With reverence and with fear;
Though dust and ashes in Thy sight,
We may, we must draw near.
We perish if we cease from prayer;
O grant us power to pray;
And when to meet Thee we prepare,
Lord, meet us by the way.
God of all grace, we come to Thee
With broken, contrite hearts;
Give what Thine eye delights to see,
Truth in the inward parts.
Faith is the only sacrifice
That can for sin atone;
To cast our hopes, to fix our eyes,
On Christ, on Christ alone.
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poem by James Montgomery
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Morning Thoughts
What secret hand at morning light,
By stealth unseals mine eye,
Draws back the curtain of the night,
And opens earth and sky?
'Tis Thine, my God - the same that kept
My resting hours from harm;
No ill came nigh me, for I slept
Beneath th' Almighty's arm.
'Tis Thine - my daily bread that brings,
Like manna scatter'd round,
And clothes me, as the lily springs
In beauty from the ground.
This is the hand that shaped my frame,
And gave me pulse to beat;
That bears me oft through flood and flame,
Through tempest, cold, and heat.
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poem by James Montgomery
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A Sweet Landscape
Sweet was the scene! apart the cedars stood.
A sunny islet open'd in the wood;
With vernal tints the wild-brier as thicket glows,
For here the desert flourish'd as the rose;
From sapling trees with lucid foliage crown'd,
Gay lights and shadows twinkled on the ground:
Up the tall stems luxuriant creepers run
To hang their silver blossoms in the sun;
Deep velvet verdure clad the turf beneath,
Where trodden flowers their richest odours breathe;
O'er all, the bees with murmuring music flew
From bell to bell, to sip the treasured dew;
Whilst insect myriads in their solar gleams,
Glanced to and fro, like intermingling beams;
So fresh, so pure, the woods, the sky, the air,
It seem'd a place where angels might repair,
And tune their harps beneath those tranquil shades,
To morning songs or moonlight serenades!
poem by James Montgomery
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To the Autumn
Sweet Sabbath of the year!
While evening lights decay,
Thy parting steps methinks I hear
Steal from the world away.
Amid thy silent bowers,
'Tis sad, but sweet, to dwell;
Where falling leaves and drooping flowers
Around me breathe farewell.
Along thy sunset skies
Their glories melt in shade,
And like the things we fondly prize,
Seem lovelier as they fade.
A deep and crimson streak
Thy dying leaves disclose;
As on consumption's waning cheek
'Mid ruin blooms the rose.
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poem by James Montgomery
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O God! Thou art my God alone;
O God! Thou art my God alone;
Early to Thee my soul shall cry;
A pilgrim in a land unknown,
A thirsty land whose springs are dry.
O that it were as it hath been,
When praying in the holy place,
Thy power and glory I have seen,
And marked the footsteps of thy grace.
Yet through this rough and thorny maze,
I follow hard on Thee, my God:
Thy hand unseen upholds my ways:
I safely tread where Thou hast trod.
Thee, in the watches of the night,
When I remember on my bed,
Thy presence makes the darkness light;
Thy guardian wings are round my head.
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poem by James Montgomery
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O Spirit of the Living God
O Spirit of the living God,
In all Thy plenitude of grace,
Where’er the foot of man hath trod,
Descend on our apostate race.
Give tongues of fire and hearts of love
To preach the reconciling Word,
Give power and unction from above,
Whene’er the joyful sound is heard.
Be darkness, at Thy coming, light;
Confusion, order in Thy path;
Souls without strength inspire with might;
Bid mercy triumph over wrath.
O Spirit of the Lord, prepare
All the round earth her God to meet;
Breathe Thou abroad like morning air,
Till hearts of stone begin to beat.
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poem by James Montgomery
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Twilight
I love thee, Twilight! as thy shadows roll,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul,
Sublimely tender, solemnly serene,
Still as the hour, enchanting as the scene.
I love thee, Twilight! for thy gleams impart
Their dear, their dying influence to my heart.
When o'er the harp of thought thy passing wind
Awakens all the music of the mind,
And joy and sorrow, as the spirit burns,
And hope and memory sweep the chords by turns
While contemplation, on seraphic wings,
Mounts with the flame of sacrifice, and sings.
Twilight! I love thee; let thy glooms increase,
Till every feeling, every pulse, is peace.
Slow from the sky the light of day declines,
Clearer within, the dawn of glory shines,
Revealing, in the hour of nature's rest,
A world of wonders in the poet's breast;
Deeper, O Twilight! then thy shadows roll, -
An awful vision opens on my soul.
poem by James Montgomery
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