Poetry for the Glory of God

How blessed we are! How blessed we are!
Sing unto the mountain tops,
Unto the ships and mills and shops,
Until time be for all to stop.

Who has blessed us? Who has blessed us?
T’is not by mine own hand.
Nay, it is done by none in the land.
Jehovah , our Lord, hath made us to stand!

Why doth He bless? Why doth He bless?
There’s nothing good of me.
I have given naught to He.
Yet He loves me; Love He be!

But what of He? But what of He?
Is that Man, Christ, not his own Son?
God let us slay Him! His blood did run
So that we sinners may of sin be done?

Look to the tomb! Look to the tomb!
Jesus has risen again to life.
For the faithfull’s sins He’s suffered strife.

How can I attempt to serve?
How can I attempt to praise?
Can I be faithful to your Word
When I have sinned for all these days?

All my righteousness is as rags.
And I have none to look up to,
For all men have these sins, these filthy snags!
We can offer nothing unto You.

But You have died so that we might live.
You, God, have covered us with your blood.
We have nothing of our own to give.
Jehovah, we give back to You: Your precious Love!

Have I believed in vain?
The darkness has prospered much.
All I feel is the pain
Of the burning of Your touch.

When evil does as evil is
No evil to him befalls.
Yet I give thought to one dark sin;
Despair reigns o’er all!

Then I am reminded of His promise sure,
And I fall down and repent.
The wicked will much sorrow endure,
And I, to God, will be sent.

Light still rules, though the present be dark,
For the darkness is here in might.
Christ shall return when the trumpet we hark
And the faithful shall live in His sight.