Your money your singleness, marriage, talents, your time/
they were loaned to you to show the world that Christ is Divine/
that's why it's Christ in my rhymes/
That's why it's Christ all the time/
see my whole world is built around him He's the life in my lines/
I refuse to waste my life/
he's too true ta chase that ice/
here's my gifts and time cause I'm constantly trying to be used to praise the Christ/
If he's truly raised to life/
then this news should change your life/
and by his grace you can put your faith in place that rules your days and nights.
“[I]n respect of our ignorance, we stand in need of His prophetical office;
and in respect of our alienation from God, and imperfection of the best of our
services, we need His priestly office to reconcile us and present us acceptable
unto God; and in respect of our averseness and utter inability to return to
God, and for our rescue and security from our spiritual adversaries, we need His
kingly office to convince, subdue, draw, uphold, deliver, and preserve us to His
(The London Baptist Confession of Faith of 1689, VIII “Of Christ the Mediator”:10)
We did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. Isa. 53:4
Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
See him dying on the tree!
‘Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, ‘tis he, ‘tis he!
‘Tis the long expected Prophet,
David’s Son, yet David’s Lord;
By his Son God now has spoken:
‘Tis the true and faithful Word.
Tell me, ye who hear him groaning,
Was there ever grief like his?
Friends thro’ fear his cause disowning,
Foes insulting his distress;
Many hands were raised to wound him,
None would interpose to save;
But the deepest stroke that pierced him
Was the stroke that Justice gave.
Ye who think of sin but lightly
Nor suppose the evil great
Here may view its nature rightly,
Here its guilt may estimate.
Mark the sacrifice appointed,
See who bears the awful load;
‘Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed,
Son of Man and Son of God.
Here we have a firm foundation,
Here the refuge of the lost;
Christ’s the Rock of our salvation,
His the name of which we boast.
Lamb of God, for sinners wounded,
Sacrifice to cancel guilt!
None shall ever be confounded
Who on him their hope have built.
Thomas Kelly, 1804
O MEIN JESU, ICH MUSS STERBEN 220.127.116.11.D.
Geistliche Volkslieder, Paderborn, 1850