Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God. Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
Oh what a happy soul am I although I cannot see, I am resolved that in this world contented I shall be. How many blessings I enjoy that other people don’t. To weep and sigh, because I’m blind? I cannot and I won’t.
Sometimes I need to reject the music proposed for my songs because the musicians misunderstand that the Fanny Crosby who once wrote for the people in the saloons has merely changed the lyrics. Oh my no. The church must never sing it’s songs to the melodies of the world.
Because when I get to heaven, the first face that shall ever gladden my sight will be that of my Savior.
Redeemed how I love to proclaim it. Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. Redeemed thru His infinite mercy His child and forever I am.
Angels descending bring from above Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
Can ye fathom the ocean, dark and deep, where the mighty waves and the grandeur sweep?
Chords that were broken will vibrate once more.
The angel of mercy, the child of love, together had flown to the realms above.