We Were Pharaoh's Bondmen
Beneath the tyrant Satan's yoke
Our souls were long oppressed;
Till grace our galling fetters broke,
And gave the weary rest.
Jesus, in that important hour,
His mighty arm made known;
He ransomed us by price, and pow'r,
And claimed us for his own.
Now, freed from bondage, sin, and death,
We walk in Wisdom's ways;
And wish to spend our every breath,
In wonder, love, and praise.
Ere long, we hope with him to dwell
In yonder world above;
And now, we only live to tell
The riches of his love.
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poem by John Newton
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How Sweet The Name Of Jesus Sounds
How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear?
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.
It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis Manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.
Dear name! The rock on which I build,
My Shield and Hiding-place;
My never-failing Treas'ry filled
With boundless stores of grace.
By thee my prayers acceptance gain
Although with sin defiled,
Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am owned a child.
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poem by John Newton
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Satan Returning
When Jesus claims the sinner's heart,
Where Satan ruled before;
The evil spirit must depart,
And dares return no more.
But when he goes without constraint,
And wanders from his home;
Although withdrawn, 'tis but a feint,
He means again to come.
Some outward change perhaps is seen
If Satan quit the place;
But though the house seem swept and clean,
'Tis destitute of grace.
Except the Saviour dwell and reign
Within the sinner's mind;
Satan, when he returns again,
Will easy entrance find.
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poem by John Newton
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Faith's Review and Expectation (Amazing Grace)
1
1 AMAZING grace! (how sweet the sound!)
2 That sav'd a wretch like me!
3 I once was lost, but now am found;
4 Was blind, but now I see.
2
5 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
6 And grace my fears reliev'd;
7 How precious did that grace appear,
8 The hour I first believ'd!
3
9 Thro' many dangers, toils, and snares,
10 I have already come;
11 'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
12 And grace will lead me home.
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poem by John Newton
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The Bitter Waters
Beside the gospel pool
Appointed for the poor;
From year to year, my helpless soul
Has waited for a cure.
How often have I seen
The healing waters move;
And others, round me, stepping in
Their efficacy prove.
But my complaints remain,
I feel the very same;
As full of guilt, and fear, and pain.
As when at first I came.
O would the Lord appear
My malady to heal;
He knows how long I've languished here;
And what distress I feel.
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poem by John Newton
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The Pool Of Bethesda
Beside the gospel pool
Appointed for the poor;
From year to year, my helpless soul
Has waited for a cure.
How often have I seen
The healing waters move;
And others, round me, stepping in
Their efficacy prove.
But my complaints remain,
I feel the very same;
As full of guilt, and fear, and pain.
As when at first I came.
O would the Lord appear
My malady to heal;
He knows how long I've languished here;
And what distress I feel.
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poem by John Newton
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The Meal And Cruse Of Oil
By the poor widow's oil and meal
Elijah was sustained;
Though small the stock it lasted well,
For God the store maintained.
It seemed as if from day to day,
They were to eat and die;
But still, though in a secret way,
He sent a fresh supply.
Thus to his poor he still will give
Just for the present hour;
But for tomorrow they must live
Upon his word and power.
No barn or storehouse they possess
On which they can depend;
Yet have no cause to fear distress,
For Jesus is their friend.
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poem by John Newton
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The Death Of Stephen
As some tall rock amidst the waves,
The fury of the tempest braves;
While the fierce billows toiling high,
Break at its foot and murm'ring die:
Thus they, who in the Lord confide,
Though foes assault on every side;
Cannot he moved or overthrown,
For Jesus makes their cause his own.
So faithful Stephen, undismayed,
The malice of the Jews surveyed;
The holy joy which filled his breast
A lustre on his face impressed.
Behold! he said, the world of light
Is opened to my strengthened sight;
My glorious Lord appears in view,
That Jesus, whom ye lately slew.
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poem by John Newton
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The Two Malefactors
Sovereign grace has pow'r alone
To subdue a heart of stone;
And the moment grace is felt,
Then the hardest heart will melt.
When the Lord was crucified,
Two transgressors with him died;
One with vile blaspheming tongue,
Scoffed at Jesus as he hung.
Thus he spent his wicked breath,
In the very jaws of death
Perished, as too many do,
With the Saviour in his view.
But the other, touched with grace,
Saw the danger of his case;
Faith received to own the Lord,
Whom the scribes and priests abhorred.
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poem by John Newton
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The Gourd
As once for Jonah, so the Lord
To soothe and cheer my mournful hours,
Prepared for me a pleasing gourd,
Cool was its shade, and sweet its flow'rs.
To prize his gift was surely right;
But through the folly of my heart,
It hid the Giver from my sight,
And soon my joy was changed to smart.
While I admired its beauteous form,
Its pleasant shade and graceful fruit;
The Lord, displeased, sent forth a worm,
Unseen, to prey upon the root.
I trembled when I saw it fade,
But guilt restrained the murm'ring word;
My folly I confessed, and prayed,
Forgive my sin, and spare my gourd.
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poem by John Newton
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