Sunday Hymn: Christ Is Mine Forever More

Mine are days that God has numbered
I was made to walk with Him
Yet I look for worldly treasure
And forsake the King of kings

But mine is hope in my Redeemer
Though I fall, His love is sure
For Christ has paid for every failing
I am His forevermore

Mine are tears in times of sorrow
Darkness not yet understood
Through the valley I must travel
Where I see no earthly good

But mine is peace that flows from Heaven
And the strength in times of need
I know my pain will not be wasted
Christ completes his work in me

Mine are days here as a stranger
Pilgrim on a narrow way
One with Christ I will encounter
Harm and hatred for His name

But mine is armour for this battle
Strong enough to last the war
And He has said He will deliver
Safely to the golden shore

And mine are keys to Zion city
Where beside the King I walk
For there my heart has found its treasure
Christ is mine forevermore

Come rejoice now, O my soul
For His love is my reward
Fear is gone and hope is sure
Christ is mine forevermore

And mine are keys to Zion city
Where beside the King I walk
For there my heart has found its treasure
Christ is mine forevermore

—Rich Thompson / Jonny Robinson © Cityalight Music

Sunday Hymn: Hark! I Hear the Harps Eternal

Hark! I hear the harps eternal ringing on the farther shore,
As I near those swollen waters with their deep and solemn roar.

Refrain
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah praise the lamb
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, glory to the great I am

And my soul, though stained with sorrow, fading as the light of day,
Passes swiftly o’er those waters, to the city far away.

Some have crossed before me, saintly, to that land of perfect rest;
And I hear them singing faintly in the mansions of the blest.

Mighty Jesus, bear us over, these to kneel before Thy throne.
May we join the saints forever praising Thee, and Thee alone.

—F. R. Warren

Sunday Hymn: Arise, My Soul, Arise

Arise, my soul, arise,
shake off thy guilty fears.
The bleeding Sacrifice
in my behalf appears.
Before the throne my Surety stands,
before the throne my Surety stands;
my name is written on His hands.

He ever lives above,
for me to intercede;
His all-redeeming love,
His precious blood to plead,
His blood atoned for all our race,
His blood atoned for all our race,
and sprinkles now the throne of grace.

Five bleeding wounds He bears,
received on Calvary;
they pour effectual prayers,
they strongly plead for me.
“Forgive him, O, forgive,” they cry,
“Forgive him, O, forgive,” they cry,
“Nor let that ransomed sinner die!”

The Father hears Him pray,
His dear Anointed One;
He cannot turn away
the presence of His Son.
His Spirit answers to the blood,
His Spirit answers to the blood,
and tells me I am born of God.

My God is reconciled,
His pard’ning voice I hear;
He owns me for a child,
I can no longer fear.
With confidence I now draw nigh,
with confidence I now draw nigh,
and, “Father, Abba, Father,” cry.

 —Charles Wesley