Time How Short
Time, with an unwearied hand,
Pushes round the seasons past,
And in life's frail glass, the sand
Sinks apace, not long to last:
Many, well as you or I,
Who last year assembled thus;
In their silent graves now lie,
Graves will open soon for us!
Daily sin, and care, and strife,
While the Lord prolongs our breath,
Make it but a dying life,
Or a kind of living death:
Wretched they, and most forlorn,
Who no better portion know;
Better ne'er to have been born,
Than to have our all below.
When constrained to go alone,
Leaving all you love behind;
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poem by John Newton
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David's Fall
How David, when by sin deceived,
From bad to worse went on!
For when the Holy Spirit's grieved,
Our strength and guard are gone.
His eye on Bathsheba once fixed,
With poison filled his soul;
He ventured on adult'ry next,
And murder crowned the whole.
So from a spark of fire at first,
That has not been descried;
A dreadful flame has often burst,
And ravaged far and wide.
When sin deceives it hardens too,
For though he vainly fought
To hide his crimes from public view,
Of God he little thought.
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poem by John Newton
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Woman Of Canaan
Prayer an answer will obtain,
Though the Lord awhile delay;
None shall seek his face in vain,
None be empty sent away.
When the woman came from Tyre,
And for help to Jesus sought;
Though he granted her desire,
Yet at first he answered not.
Could she guess at his intent,
When he to his follow'rs said,
I to Israel's sheep am sent,
Dogs must not have children's bread.
She was not of Israel's seed,
But of Canaan's wretched race;
Thought herself a dog indeed;
Was not this a hopeless case?
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poem by John Newton
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The Book Of Creation
The book of nature open lies,
With much instruction stored;
But till the Lord anoints our eyes
We cannot read a word.
Philosophers have pored in vain,
And guessed, from age to age;
For reason's eye could ne'er attain
To understand a page.
Though to each star they give a name,
Its size and motions teach;
The truths which all the stars proclaim,
Their wisdom cannot reach.
With skill to measure earth and sea;
And weigh the subtle air;
They cannot, Lord, discover thee
Though present everywhere.
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poem by John Newton
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The Good That I Would I Do Not
I would, but cannot sing,
Guilt has untuned my voice;
The serpent sin's envenomed sting
Has poisoned all my joys.
I know the Lord is nigh,
And would, but cannot, pray;
For Satan meets me when I try,
And frights my soul away.
I would but can't repent
Though I endeavor oft;
This stony heart can ne'er relent
Till Jesus make it soft.
I would but cannot love,
Though wooed by love divine;
No arguments have pow'r to move
A soul so base as mine.
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poem by John Newton
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The Trembling Jailer
A Believer, free from care,
May in chains, or dungeons, sing,
If the Lord be with him there;
And he happier than a king:
Paul and Silas thus confined,
Though their backs were torn by whips,
Yet possessing peace of mind,
Sung his praise wish joyful lips.
Suddenly the prison shook,
Open flew the iron doors;
And the jailer, terror-struck,
Now his captives' help implores:
Trembling at their feet he fell,
Tell me, Sirs, what must I do
To be saved from guilt and hell?
None can tell me this but you.
Look to Jesus, they replied,
If on Him thou canst believe;
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poem by John Newton
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Humbled And Silenced By Mercy
Once perishing in blood I lay,
Creatures no help could give,
But Jesus passed me in the way,
He saw, and bid me live.
Though Satan still his rule maintained,
And all his arts employed;
That mighty Word his rage restrained,
I could not be destroyed.
At length the time of love arrived
When I my Lord should know,
Then Satan, of his pow'r deprived,
Was forced to let me go.
O can I e'er that day forget
When Jesus kindly spoke!
Poor soul, my blood has paid thy debt,
And now I break thy yoke.
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poem by John Newton
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The Hiding Place
See the gloomy gath'ring cloud
Hanging o'er a sinful land!
Sure the Lord proclaims aloud,
Times of trouble are at hand:
Happy they, who love his name!
They shall always find him near;
Though the earth were wrapped in flame,
They have no just cause for fear.
Hark! his voice in accents mild,
O, how comforting and sweet!
Speaks to every humble child,
Pointing out a sure retreat!
Come, and in my chambers hide,
To my saints of old well known;
There you safely may abide,
Till the storm be overblown.
You have only to repose
On my wisdom, love, and care;
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poem by John Newton
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Lot In Sodom
How hurtful was the choice of Lot,
Who took up his abode
Because it was a fruitful spot
With them who feared not God!
A pris'ner he was quickly made,
Bereaved of all his store;
And, but for Abraham's timely aid,
He had returned no more.
Yet still he seemed resolved to stay
As if it were his rest;
Although their sins from day to day
His righteous soul distressed.
Awhile he stayed with anxious mind,
Exposed to scorn and strife;
At last he left his all behind,
And fled to save his life.
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poem by John Newton
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Salvation Drawing Nearer
Darkness overspreads us here,
But the night wears fast away;
Jacob's star will soon appear,
Leading on eternal day!
Now 'tis time to rouse from sleep,
Trim our lamps and stand prepared;
For our Lord strict watch to keep,
Lest he find us off our guard.
Let his people courage take,
Bear with a submissive mind
All they suffer for his sake,
Rich amends they soon will find:
He will wipe away their tears,
Near himself appoint their lot;
All their sorrows, pains and fears,
Quickly then wilt be forgot.
Though already saved, by grace,
From the hour we first believed;
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poem by John Newton
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