I waited for the Lord, he inclined unto me,
he heard my complaint.
O blest are they that hope and trust in him.
From the ESV:
I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his trust. Psalm 40:1, 4a.
This joyful Eastertide,
Away with sin and sorrow!
My love, the Crucified,
Hath sprung to life this morrow.
Had Christ, that once was slain,
Ne’er burst his three-day prison
Our faith had been in vain:
But now hath Christ arisen, arisen, arisen!
My flesh in hope shall rest,
And for a season slumber:
Till trump from east to west
Shall wake the dead in number.
Death’s flood hath lost his chill,
Since Jesus crossed the river:
Lover of souls, from ill
My passing soul deliver.
Our choir will sing this Dutch carol tomorrow.
Written by William Cowper in 1772, in many hymnbooks known as “There is a Fountain.” The three verses sung here:
There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
And when this feeble, faltering tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I’ll sing His power to save.
Thou dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
‘Till all the ransomed church of God
Are Saved to sin no more.
The two leaders in the video are well known in Sacred Harp singing circles, David Lee of Hoboken, GA and Syble Wooten Adams of Adler, AL.
Come down, O love divine, seek Thou this soul of mine,
And visit it with Thine own ardor glowing.
O Comforter, draw near, within my heart appear,
And kindle it, Thy holy flame bestowing.
O let it freely burn, til earthly passions turn
to dust and ashes in its heat consuming;
And let Thy glorious light shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.
Let holy charity mine outward vesture be,
And lowliness become mine inner clothing;
True lowliness of heart, which takes the humbler part,
And o’er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.
And so the yearning strong, with which the soul will long,
Shall far outpass the power of human telling;
For none can guess its grace, till he become the place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes His dwelling.