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Posts Tagged ‘1818’

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 mine own.

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

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 set my heart on Thee:
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.

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.

Take, my soul, 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; what a Father’s smile is thine;
What a Savior died to win thee, child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

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

Henry Francis Lyte was buried this date, 11/20/1847, Nice, France.  Though orphaned he was able to attended Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland, specializing in English poetry.  Lyte married Anne Maxwell, 1818, at Bath, daughter of William Maxwell a minister of Monaghan. (Their very happy marriage produced at least one child, a daughter.)  From Trinity College he received his MA in 1820.

Lyte did not have a strong body and in later years suffered from asthma and consumption. His last pastorate (twenty-three years) was a poor parish, pastoring the fishermen and families in Lower Brixham, England.  (It was here he penned “Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken.”  Near the end of life (his health in worse condition) Lyte preached his last sermon and also wrote “Abide with Me, Fast Falls the Eventide.”

It was for his health sake that he had started to Italy but expired making it no farther than France. Lyte was born 6/1/1793, at Ed­nam, Scot­land.

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More love to Thee, O Christ, more love to Thee!
Hear Thou the prayer I make on bended knee.
This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest;
Now Thee alone I seek, give what is best.
This all my prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Let sorrow do its work, come grief or pain;
Sweet are Thy messengers, sweet their refrain,
When they can sing with me: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise;
This be the parting cry my heart shall raise;
This still its prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Elizabeth Payson Prentiss was born this date 10/26/1818, at Portland, Maine.  She was a Congregationalist schoolteacher and poet who in 1845 married a minister. One of her poems became the hymn “More Love to Thee” written out of a broken heart for the loss of a child. The original poem was originally printed as a leaflet. She died 8/13/1878 at Dor­set, Ver­mont.

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Stand up, stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the cross;
Lift high His royal banner, it must not suffer loss.
From victory unto victory His army shall He lead,
Till every foe is vanquished, and Christ is Lord indeed.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, the solemn watchword hear;
If while ye sleep He suffers, away with shame and fear;
Where’er ye meet with evil, within you or without,
Charge for the God of battles, and put the foe to rout.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, the trumpet call obey;
Forth to the mighty conflict, in this His glorious day.
Ye that are brave now serve Him against unnumbered foes;
Let courage rise with danger, and strength to strength oppose.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, stand in His strength alone;
The arm of flesh will fail you, ye dare not trust your own.
Put on the Gospel armor, each piece put on with prayer;
Where duty calls or danger, be never wanting there.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, each soldier to his post,
Close up the broken column, and shout through all the host:
Make good the loss so heavy, in those that still remain,
And prove to all around you that death itself is gain.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus, the strife will not be long;
This day the noise of battle, the next the victor’s song.
To those who vanquish evil a crown of life shall be;
They with the King of Glory shall reign eternally.

George Duffield, Jr. was born this date, 9/12/1818, at Carlisle, PA.  He was a Presbyterian minister (as were his father and grandfather)  He ministered 44 years in NY, NJ, PA, IL and MI.  In 1858 he composed the words of the hymn “Stand up, Stand up for Jesus.”

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O, for a faith that will not shrink,
Though pressed by every foe,
That will not tremble on the brink
Of any earthly woe!

 That will not murmur nor complain
Beneath the chastening rod,
But, in the hour of grief or pain,
Will lean upon its God.

A faith that shines more bright and clear
When tempests rage without;
That when in danger knows no fear,
In darkness feels no doubt.

 That bears, unmoved, the world’s dread frown
Nor heeds its scornful smile;
That seas of trouble cannot drown,
Nor Satan’s arts beguile.

 A faith that keeps the narrow way
Till life’s last hour is fled,
And with a pure and heavenly ray
Lights up a dying bed.

 Lord, give me such a faith as this,
And then, whate’er may come,
I’ll taste, e’en here, the hallowed bliss
Of an eternal home.

William Hiley Bathurst was born this date, 8/28/1796 at Clevedale – near Bristol – England.  He grad­uat­ed Christ Church, Ox­ford in 1818.  He a minister and was also a Mem­ber of Par­lia­ment for Bris­tol.  Bathurst passed away 11/25/1877 at Gloucetershire, England.

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