A hymn of grace

We sung this in church this morning. It was wonderful to be surrounded by so many people just belting it out. It wasn't the first time i'd sung it, but i think it was the first time i really, really really grasped how wonderful, gracious and true the first verse is. I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly trust in Jesus name. You know what, there are a million things around that we are asked to believe in, millions of functional savours from funtional hells. But, instead of them, trsut Jesus, whose blood will never fail. Also, i love the first verse, because it reminds me that all i can is lean. Thats all, i bring nothing, i have nothing, i offer nothing, all i can do is lean. Simply lean on Jesus and trust His blood:

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Refrain: 
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

I'd rather have Jesus

I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold;
I’d rather be His than have riches untold;
I’d rather have Jesus than houses or lands, 
I’d rather be led by His nail pierced hand.

Than to be a king of a vast domain
Or be held in sin’s dread sway,
I’d rather have Jesus than anything
This world affords today.

I’d rather have Jesus than men’s applause;
I’d rather be faithful to His dear cause;
I’d rather have Jesus than world-wide fame,
I’d rather be true to His holy name.

He’s fairer than lilies of rarest bloom;
He’s sweeter than honey from out of the comb;
He’s all that my hungering spirit needs,
I’d rather have Jesus and let Him lead.

The Look

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw One hanging on a tree,
In agony and blood,
Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.

Sure, never to my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;
It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.

My conscience felt and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair,
I saw my sins His blood had spilt,
And helped to nail Him there.

A second look He gave, which said,
“I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayst live.”

Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.

Originally by John Newton and later Sovereign Grace Music

the cross

to die by crucifixion was to plumb the lowest depths of disgrace, it was a punishment reserved for those deemed unfit to live, a punishment for those who were subhuman. For so degrading a death the Romans was exempt by an ancient statute, the dignity of the Roman name would be besmirched by being brought into association with anything as vile as a cross. For slaves and criminals of a low degree it was regarded as a suitable form of execution, and to others a grim deterrent. But this disgrace Jesus disregarded, as something not worth taking into account when it was a question of obedience to the will of God

F.F Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews P338

I stand amazed in the presence Of Jesus the Nazarene,

And wonder how He could love me,A sinner, condemned, unclean.

O how marvelous! O how wonderful!

And my song shall ever be:

O how marvelous! O how wonderful!

Is my Savior’s love for me!
For me it was in the garden He prayed:

“Not My will, but Thine.”He had no tears for His own griefs, But sweat drops of blood for mine.

In pity angels beheld Him,And came from the world of light

To comfort Him in the sorrows He bore for my soul that night.

He took my sins and my sorrows,He made them His very own;

He bore the burden to Calvary,And suffered and died alone.

When with the ransomed in glory

His face I at last shall see,’Twill be my joy through the ages

To sing of His love for me.