Songs I Can’t Sing

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious

thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no

more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord haste the day, when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;The trump shall resound, and the

Lord shall descend,Even so, it is well with my soul.

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation

And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!

Then I shall bow in humble adoration,And there proclaim,

my God, how great Thou art!

These are the days of ElijahDeclaring the Word of the Lord

And these are the days of his servant, Moses

Righteousness being restoredAnd these are the days of great trialOf famine and darkness and sword

So we are the voice in the desert cryingPrepare ye the way of the Lord

And these are the days of EzekielThe dry bones becoming as flesh

And these are the days of his servant, David

Building the temple of praiseAnd these are the days of the harvestThe fields are all white in your world

And we are the laborers in your vineyarddeclaring the word of the Lord!

Behold he comesRiding on a cloud

Shining like the sunAt the trumpet's call

So lift your voiceIt's the year of jubilee

Out of Zion's hill salvation comes

When thro' fiery Trials thy Pathway shalt

lie,

My Grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy

Supply;

The flame shall not hurt thee, I only

design

Thy Dross to consume, and thy Gold to

refine.

The Soul that on Jesus hath lean'd for Repose,

I will not, I will not desert to his Foes;That Soul, though all Hell should

endeavor to shake,I'll never – no never – no never

forsake