Songs I Can’t Sing

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord haste the day, when my faith shall be sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll; The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, Even so, it is well with my soul.

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart! Then I shall bow in humble adoration, And there proclaim, my God, how great Thou art!

These are the days of Elijah Declaring the Word of the Lord And these are the days of his servant, Moses Righteousness being restored And these are the days of great trial Of famine and darkness and sword So we are the voice in the desert crying Prepare ye the way of the Lord

And these are the days of Ezekiel The dry bones becoming as flesh And these are the days of his servant, David Building the temple of praise And these are the days of the harvest The fields are all white in your world And we are the laborers in your vineyard declaring the word of the Lord!

Behold he comes Riding on a cloud Shining like the sun At the trumpet's call So lift your voice It's the year of jubilee Out of Zion's hill salvation comes

When thro' fiery Trials thy Pathway shalt lie, My Grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy Supply; The flame shall not hurt thee, I only design Thy Dross to consume, and thy Gold to refine.

The Soul that on Jesus hath lean'd for Repose, I will not, I will not desert to his Foes; That Soul, though all Hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never – no never – no never forsake