Olney Hymns quotes

Compell’d to answer to his name, With stubbornness and pride, He cast on God himself the blame, Nor once for mercy cried.

But grace, unask’d, his heart subdued, And all his guilt forgave;

By faith the promised Seed he view’d, And felt His power to save.

But grace, unask’d, his heart subdued, And all his guilt forgave; By faith the promised Seed he view’d, And felt His power to save.

Thus we ourselves would justify, Though we the law transgress⁠— Like him, unable to deny, Unwilling to confess.

But when by faith the sinner sees A pardon bought with blood, Then he forsakes his foolish pleas And gladly turns to God.

Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul-refreshing view Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoy’d! How sweet their mem’ry still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.

Return, O holy Dove! return, Sweet messenger of rest; I hate the sins that made thee mourn, And drove thee from my breast.

Bless’d proofs of power and grace divine That meet us in his word! May every deep-felt care of mine Be trusted with the Lord!

Wait for his seasonable aid, And though it tarry, wait: The promise may be long delay’d, But cannot come too late.

Though troubles assail, And dangers affright, Though friends should all fail, And foes all unite; Yet one thing secures us, Whatever betide, The Scripture assures us The Lord will provide.

Some golden calf, or golden dream, Some fancied creature-good, Presumes to share the heart with Him Who bought the whole with blood.

Lord, save us from our golden calves, Our sin with grief we own; We would no more be thine by halves, But live to thee alone.

See Aaron, God’s anointed priest, Within the veil appear, In robes of mystic meaning dress’d, Presenting Isr’el’s pray’r.

The lion that on Samson roar’d, And thirsted for his blood, With honey afterwards was stored, And furnish’d him with food.

Believers as they pass along With many lions meet, But gather sweetness from the strong, And from the eater meat.

The lions rage and roar in vain, For Jesus is their shield: Their losses prove a certain gain, Their troubles comfort yield.

Afflictions make them love the word, Stir up their hearts to prayer, And many precious proofs afford Of their Redeemer’s care.

The lions roar but cannot kill; Then fear them not, my friends;

They bring us, though against their will, The honey Jesus sends.

I triumph’d at a distance, While he was out of sight; But faint was my resistance When forced to join in fight: He broke my sword in shivers, And pierced my boasted shield; Laugh’d at my vain endeavours, And drove me from the field.

Satan will not be braved By such a worm as I;

Then let me learn with David To trust in the Most High— To plead the name of Jesus, And use the sling of prayer: Thus arm’d, when Satan sees us He’ll tremble and despair.

Though kings and nations in his view Are but as motes and dust, His eyes and ear are fix’d on you Who in his mercy trust.

Not one concern of ours is small If we belong to him.

To teach us this, the Lord of all Once made the iron swim.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved; How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed!

Through many dangers, toils, and snares. I have already come; ’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me— His word my hope secures; He will my shield and portion be As long as life endures.

How tedious and tasteless the hours When Jesus no longer I see; Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers, Have all lost their sweetness with me: The midsummer sun shines but dim.

The fields strive in vain to look gay, But when I am happy in him, December’s as pleasant as May.

His name yields the richest perfume, And sweeter than music his voice, His presence disperses my gloom, And makes all within me rejoice; I should, were he always so nigh, Have nothing to wish or to fear;

But happy he whose hopes depend Upon the Lord alone; The soul that trusts in such a Friend Can ne’er be overthrown.

Though gourds should wither, cisterns break. And creature-comforts die, No change his solid hope can shake, Or stop his sure supply.

So thrives and blooms the tree whose roots By constant streams are fed; Array’d in green, and rich in fruits, It rears its branching head.

Lord, dost thou such backslidings heal, And pardon all that’s past?

Sure, if I am not made of steel, Thou hast prevail’d at last.

My tongue, which rashly spoke before, This mercy will restrain; Surely I now shall boast no more, Nor censure, nor complain.

Yet in this forlorn condition, When he came to see me free, I replied to my Physician, “What have I to do with thee?” But he would not be prevented, Rescued me against my will:

Had he stayed till I consented I had been a captive still.

“Satan, though thou fain wouldst have it, Know this soul is none of thine; I have shed my blood to save it, Now I challenge it for mine; Though it long has thee resembled, Henceforth it shall me obey:

If I love, why am I thus? Why this dull, this lifeless frame? Hardly sure can they be worse Who have never heard his name!

Could my heart so hard remain, Pray’r a task and burden prove, Every trifle give me pain, If I knew a Saviour’s love?

When I turn my eyes within, All is dark and vain and wild: Fill’d with unbelief and sin, Can I deem myself a child?

Yet I mourn my stubborn will, Find my sin a grief and thrall:

Should I grieve for what I feel, If I did not love at all?

Could I joy his saints to meet, Choose the ways I once abhorr’d, Find, at times, the promise sweet, If I did not love the Lord?

Lord, decide the doubtful case! Thou who art thy people’s sun, Shine upon thy work of grace, If it be indeed begun.

Let me love thee more and more, If I love at all, I pray;

If I have not loved before, Help me to begin to-day.

May we by faith perceive thee thus, Dear Saviour, ever near to us! This sight our peace through life shall keep, And death be fear’d no more than sleep.

Lord, thou hast won⁠—at length I yield⁠— My heart, by mighty grace compell’d, Surrenders all to thee;

Against thy terrors long I strove, But who can stand against thy love? Love conquers even me.

Lord, thou hast won—at length I yield— My heart, by mighty grace compell’d, Surrenders all to thee;

Against thy terrors long I strove, But who can stand against thy love? Love conquers even me.

All that a wretch could do I tried— Thy patience scorn’d, thy power defied, And trampled on thy laws: Scarcely thy martyrs at the stake Could stand more steadfast for thy sake Than I in Satan’s cause.

My grace would soon exhausted be, But his is boundless as the sea; Then let me boast with holy Paul, That I am nothing, Christ is all.

Strange and mysterious is my life, What opposites I feel within!

A stable peace, a constant strife; The rule of grace, the power of sin: Too often I am captive led, Yet daily triumph in my Head.

I prize the privilege of prayer, But oh! what backwardness to pray! Though on the Lord I cast my care, I feel its burden every day;

I seek his will in all I do, Yet find my own is working too.

I call the promises my own, And prize them more than mines of gold; Yet though their sweetness I have known, They leave me unimpress’d and cold: One hour upon the truth I feed, The next I know not what to read.

Such changes are for us decreed; Believers have their winters too; But spring shall certainly succeed, And all their former life renew.

Winter and spring have each their use, And each in turn his people know; One kills the weeds their hearts produce, The other makes their graces grow.

Though like dead trees awhile they seem, Yet, having life within their root, The welcome spring’s reviving beam Draws forth their blossoms, leaves, and fruit.

But ah! in vain I strive to join, Oppress’d with sin and doubt;

I feel ’tis winter still within, Though all is spring without.

Oh! would my Saviour from on high Break through these clouds and shine! No creature then more bless’d than I, No song more loud than mine.

To Adam, soon as he transgress’d, Thus Eden bloom’d in vain:

Not Paradise could give him rest, Or sooth his heart-felt pain.

Yet here an emblem I perceive Of what the Lord can do: Dear Saviour, help me to believe, That I may nourish too.

Though when newly sown it lay Hid awhile beneath the ground, (Some might think it thrown away,) Now a large increase is found; Though conceal’d, it was not lost;

Though it died, it lives again;

Eastern storms and nipping frosts Have opposed its growth in vain.

Restraining pray’r, we cease to fight: Pray’r makes the Christian’s armour bright; And

Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.

While Moses stood with arms spread wide, Success was found on Isr’el’s side; But when through weariness they fail’d, That moment Amalek prevail’d.

Food, to which the world’s a stranger, Here my hungry soul enjoys;

Of excess there is no danger, Though it fills, it never cloys:

On a dying Christ I feed— He is meat and drink indeed!

Vain his threats to overcome me When I take the Spirit’s sword; Then with ease I drive him from me— Satan trembles at the word:

’Tis a sword for conquest made, Keen the edge and strong the blade.

Shall I envy then the miser, Doting on his golden store? Sure I am, or should be, wiser: I am rich, ’tis he is poor: Jesus gives me, in his word, Food and med’cine, shield and sword.

The Saviour, whom I then shall see With new admiring eyes, Already has prepared for me A mansion in the skies.

I feel this mud-wall cottage shake, And long to see it fall,

That I my willing flight may take To Him who is my all.

His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.

’Tis my happiness below Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour’s pow’r to know, Sanctifying every loss. Trials must and will befall; But with humble faith to see Love inscribed upon them all, This is happiness to me.

Oh! let me then at length be taught What I am still so slow to learn:

That God is love and changes not, Nor knows the shadow of a turn.

Sweet truth, and easy to repeat! But when my faith is sharply tried, I find myself a learner yet, Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.

Hear, for mine I trust thou art, And sure I would be thine: If my soul has felt thy grace, If to me thy name is known; Why should trifles fill the place Due to thyself alone?

’Tis a strange mysterious life I live from day to day;

Light and darkness, peace and strife, Bear an alternate sway: When I think the battle won, I have to fight it o’er again; When I say I’m overthrown, Relief I soon obtain.

The storm of loud repining hush, I would in humble silence mourn; Why should th unburnt though burning bush Be angry as the crackling thorn?

Man should not faint at thy rebuke,

Like Joshua falling on his face, When the cursed thing that Achan took Brought Isr’el into just disgrace.

No, rather let me freely yield What most I prize to thee, Who never hast a good withheld, Nor wilt withhold from me.

Thy favour all my journey through, Thou art engaged to grant; What else I want, or think I do, ’Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way, Shall I resist them both? A poor blind creature of a day, And crush’d before the moth!

What wondrous love, what mysteries, In this appointment shine!

My breaches of the law are his, And his obedience mine.

From Egypt lately freed By the Redeemer’s grace, A rough and thorny path we tread, In hopes to see his face.

Nor were it wise, nor should I choose, Such secrets to declare; Like precious wines, their taste they lose

Exposed to open air.

But this with boldness I proclaim, Nor care if thousands hear, Sweet is the ointment of his name, Not life is half so dear.

In my Saviour’s intercession Therefore I will still confide; Lord, accept my free confession,

I have sinn’d but thou hast died:

This is all I have to plead, This is all the plea I need.

To see the law by Christ fulfill’d, And hear his pard’ning voice,

Changes a slave into a child, And duty into choice.

Sin enslaved me many years, And led me bound and blind, Till at length a thousand fears Came swarming o’er my mind. Where, said I, in deep distress, Will these sinful pleasures end? How shall I secure my peace, And make the Lord my friend?

But though the poison lurks within, Hope bids me still with patience wait; Till death shall set me free from sin, Free from the only thing I hate.

Had I a throne above the rest, Where angels and archangels dwell, One sin, unslain, within my breast, Would make that heav’n as dark as hell.

The pris’ner, sent to breathe fresh air, And bless’d with liberty again, Would mourn were he condemn’d to wear One link of all his former chain.

The joy that fades is not for me, I seek immortal joys above; There glory without end shall be The bright reward of faith and love.

Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms, Contented lick your native dust;

But God shall fight with all his storms, Against the idol of your trust.

In Jesus is our store, Grace issues from his throne;

Whoever says, “I want no more,” Confesses he has none.

Grace, triumphant in the throne, Scorns a rival, reigns alone; Come and bow beneath her sway, Cast your idol-works away. Works of man, when made his plea, Never shall accepted be; Fruits of pride (vain-glorious worm) Are the best he can perform.

What wonder then, if sloth and sleep Distress and famine bring.

Can he in harvest hope to reap, Who will not sow in spring?

’Tis often thus in soul concerns We gospel sluggards see; Who, if a wish would serve their turns, Might true believers be.