I spent last week with my 96-year-old mother. In the midst of fading memory, she remembers Jesus, she remembers the Gospel – and she remembers poems and hymns that speak of Him and His Gospel. I tried to encourage those memories through singing with her, through listening to hymns and spiritual songs with her – and, for the first time in years, reading poetry with her. My main resource for poetry was A Sacrifice of Praise, edited by James Trott (2^nd Edition, Cumberland House Publishing, 2006).

Here are two public domain poems from that collection. The first is related to our present Wednesday morning online study, Love Jesus’ Return. I vaguely recall singing this hymn on occasion growing up. The second – by Joseph Hart, author of “Come Ye Sinners” – is a dialogue between a Gospel-speaking believer and his distressed “soul.” Note the structure: The speaker in the first seven verses rotates between the believer and his soul. In the eighth verse, the distressed soul speaks the first four lines, the believer the last four. In the ninth verse, the speakers alternate every two lines, while in the final verse, the speakers alternate every line.

Read these – and, like my mother, delight in Jesus and His Gospel!

The Second Advent by Thomas Kelly (1809)

Look, ye saints! the sight is glorious:
See the Man of Sorrows now;
From the fight returned victorious,
Every knee to Him shall bow;
Crown Him, crown Him,
Crown Him, crown Him,
Crowns become the Victor’s brow,
Crowns become the Victor’s brow.

Crown the Savior! angels, crown Him;
Rich the trophies Jesus brings;
In the seat of power enthrone Him,
While the vault of heaven rings;
Crown Him, crown Him,
Crown Him, crown Him,
Crown the Savior King of kings,
Crown the Savior King of kings.

Sinners in derision scorned Him,
Mocking thus the Savior’s claim;
Saints and angels crowd around Him,
Own His title, praise His name;
Crown Him, crown Him,
Crown Him, crown Him,
Spread abroad the Victor’s fame,
Spread abroad the Victor’s fame.

Hark, those bursts of acclamation!
Hark, those loud triumphant chords!
Jesus takes the highest station;
O what joy the sight affords!
Crown Him, crown Him,
Crown Him, crown Him,
King of kings and Lord of lords!
King of kings and Lord of lords!

A Dialogue Between a Believer and His Soul by Joseph Hart (1759)  

1 Come, my soul, and let us try,
For a little season,
Every burden to lay by;
Come, and let us reason.
What is this that casts thee down?
Who are those that grieve thee?
Speak, and let the worst be known;
Speaking may relieve thee.

2 O I sink beneath the load
Of my nature’s evil!
Full of enmity to God;
Captived by the devil;
Restless as the troubled seas;
Feeble, faint, and fearful;
Plagued with every sore disease;
How can I be cheerful?

3 Think on what thy Saviour bore
In the gloomy garden,
Sweating blood at every pore,
To procure thy pardon!
See him stretched upon the wood,
Bleeding, grieving, crying,
Suffering all the wrath of God,
Groaning, gasping, dying!

4 This by faith I sometimes view,
And those views relieve me;
But my sins return anew;
These are they that grieve me.
Oh! I’m leprous, stinking, foul,
Quite throughout infected;
Have not I, if any soul,
Cause to be dejected?

5 Think how loud thy dying Lord
Cried out, “It is finished!”
Treasure up that sacred word,
Whole and undiminished;
Doubt not he will carry on,
To its full perfection,
That good work he has begun;
Why, then, this dejection?

6 Faith when void of works is dead;
This the Scriptures witness;
And what works have I to plead,
Who am all unfitness?
All my powers are depraved,
Blind, perverse, and filthy;
If from death I’m fully saved,
Why am I not healthy?

7 Pore not on thyself too long,
Lest it sink thee lower;
Look to Jesus, kind as strong –
Mercy joined with power;
Every work that thou must do,
Will thy gracious Saviour
For thee work, and in thee too,
Of his special favour.

8 Jesus’ precious blood, once spilt,
I depend on solely,
To release and clear my guilt;
But I would be holy.
He that bought thee on the cross
Can control thy nature;
Fully purge away thy dross;
Make thee a new creature.

9 That he can I nothing doubt,
Be it but his pleasure.
Though it be not done throughout,
May it not in measure?
When that measure, far from great,
Still shall seem decreasing?
Faint not then, but pray and wait,
Never, never ceasing.

10 What when prayer meets no regard?
Still repeat it often.
But I feel myself so hard.
Jesus will thee soften.
But my enemies make head.
Let them closer drive thee.
But I’m cold, I’m dark, I’m dead.
Jesus will revive thee.