Only a little word,
softly and kindly
Breathed in the ear
of the sad and opprest;
Oh, how it tenderly steals
like a melody
Over life’s billows,
and lulls them to rest!
Only a little word!
Only a little word!
Only a little word,
whispered in love!
Only a little word,
softly and kindly
Dropped in a heart
that is blighter and chilled;
Oh, how its gentle strain tunes
every chord again,
Waking the echoes
that sorrow has stilled!
Frances (Fanny) Jane Crosby 1820 - 1915 ( 94 Years )
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Whilst others prayer restrain,
Nor lift a sigh to heaven,
To me, dear Lord, oh may there be
A praying spirit given.
Since each revolving sun
Brings with it loads of care,
let not a single day be spent,
Without returns of prayer.
And if I’m called to wait,
Through many a cloudy day,
A glimpse, though on a dying bed,
Will all my pains repay.
Benjamin Beddome 1717 - 1795 ( 77 Years )
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Oh, scatter seeds of loving deeds
Along the fertile fields;
For grain will grow
from what you sow,
And fruitful harvest yield.
Then day by day,
along your way,
The seeds of promise cast,
That ripened grain
from hill and plain
Be gathered home
at last.
Though sown in tears through
weary years,
The seed will surely live;
Though great the cost,
it is not lost,
For God will fruitage give.
Jessie H. Brown
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Patience! O ’tis a grace divine,
Sent from the God of pow’r and love;
That leans upon its father’s hand,
As thro’ the wilderness we move.
By patience we serenely bear
The troubles of our mortal state,
And wait contented our discharge,
Nor think our glory comes too late.
Tho’ we, in full sensation, feel
The weight, the wounds, our God ordains,
We smile amidst our heaviest woe;
And triumph in our sharpest pains.
Thomas Gibbons 1720 - 1785 ( 64 Years )
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When peace, like a river,
attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot,
Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet,
though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded
my helpless estate,
And hath shed His
own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss
of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross,
and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
O my soul!
Horatio Gates Spafford 1828 - 1888 ( 59 Years )
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There is a throne of wondrous grace,
Sprinkled with Jesus’ blood;
‘Tis there alone that faith beholds,
A sin-forgiving God.
To him I’ll send my fervent prayers,
Believing he will hear;
Will spread my guilt before his face,
And leave my burdens there.
None ask aright who ask in vain,
God does his word fulfil;
Then go to him, my troubled soul,
And wait his sovereign will.
Benjamin Beddome 1717 - 1795 ( 77 Years )
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Poor Esau repented too late That once he his birth-right despised; And sold, for a morsel of meat, What could not too highly be prized: How great was his anguish when told, The blessing he sought to obtain, Was gone with the birth-right he sold, And none could recall it again! He stands as a warning to all, Wherever the gospel shall come; O Hasten and yield to the call, While yet for repentance there's room! Your season will quickly be past, Then hear and obey it today; Lest when you seek mercy at last, The Saviour should frown you away.
John Newton 1725 - 1807 ( 81 Years )
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