Sunday Hymn: My Shepherd Will Supply My Need

My shep­herd will sup­ply my need:
Jehovah is His name;
In pas­tures fresh He makes me feed,
Beside the liv­ing stream.
He brings my wan­der­ing spir­it back
When I for­sake His ways,
And leads me, for His mer­cy’s sake,
In paths of truth and grace.

When I walk through the shades of death
Thy pre­sence is my stay;
One word of Thy sup­port­ing breath
Drives all my fears away.
Thy hand in sight of all my foes,
Doth still my ta­ble spread;
My cup with bless­ings ov­er­flows,
Thine oil an­oints my head.

The sure pro­vi­sions of my God
Attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be mine abode,
And all my work be praise!
There would I find a set­tled rest,
While oth­ers go and come;
No more a stran­ger, nor a guest,
But like a child at home.

—Isaac Watts

Sunday Hymn: All My Help Comes from the Lord

All my help (all my help) comes from the Lord.
All my help (all my help) comes from the Lord.
All my needs that I’m possessing,
All my help, all my help, all my help comes from the Lord.

Father I stretch (I stretch) my hands to Thee.
I know that You (only You) remember me. 
When others forget, when others forget, and leave me alone, 
I know that Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, will hear my groan. 

When I am weak (when I am weak) he gives me strength.
When I am lonely, he comforts me.
When I am tired of the load that I’m bearing, 
He gives me courage, courage, courage, to bear my share.

—Rev. Cleophus Robinson © 1964, Lion Publishing Co

Sunday Hymn: Come, O My Soul, Bless Thou the Lord Thy Maker

O come, my soul, bless thou the Lord thy mak­er,
And all with­in me bless His holy name;
Bless thou the Lord, for­get not all His mer­cies,
His par­don­ing grace and sav­ing love pro­claim.

Refrain

Bless Him for­ev­er, won­drous in might,
Bless Him, His ser­vants that in His will de­light.

Good is the Lord and full of kind com­pass­ion,
Most slow to an­ger, plen­te­ous in love;
Rich is His grace to all that hum­bly seek Him,
Boundless and end­less as the heav’ns above.

His love is like a fa­ther’s to his child­ren,
Tender and kind to all who fear His name;
For well He knows our weak­ness and our frail­ty,
He knows that we are dust, He knows our frame.

We fade and die like flow’rs that grow in beau­ty,
Like ten­der grass that soon will dis­ap­pear;
But ev­er­more the love of God is change­less,
Still shown to those who look to Him in fear.

High in the heav’ns His throne is fixed for­ev­er,
His king­dom rules o’er all from pole to pole;
Bless ye the Lord through all His wide do­min­ion,
Bless His most ho­ly name, O thou my soul.

—The Psalter