The good news of Christ
Christ, o’er angels, glorious King,
Ruler, author of creation,
Grant us grace to win and wing
Our way to realms e’erlasting.
Fling us out across the earth,
Sound in us the proclamation,
Shout from heights the gospel worth,
That all may know the Spirit’s birth.
Send your Spirit forth to war,
Fight for us, your holy nation,
On the hills let banners soar,
Our vict’ry feast forevermore.
O holy Hope, what else have I
On earth beside this white-hot wait?
This fired desire, with sights set high,
No worldly lure can e’er abate.
In prayer the lips move fevered pleas,
“Lord, come!” We’ll meet you in the air;
I love you more than all of these,
Let angels line the heavenly stair.
Th’ eternal span gives time below
A worth beyond the final fire;
And man, who stumbles to and fro,
To life with God may dare aspire.
All seek their own, not those of Christ,
By worldly gain and gold enticed;
To be a Demas is my fear,
To miss the Spirit’s movement near.
Come give me, Lord, a single eye,
Fixed on your will, on things on high;
Devoted to please your charge and call,
I’d seek your face above them all.
I cried to you, O Lord, ‘midst smoke and flames,
My burning lips forsook all other names:
My hopes collapsed, my shattered dreams were lost,
And I was left with nothing, stripped at last,
To find the precious Pearl, I knew the cost:
Upon the pyre went future, present, past;
In my full loss upon your grace I cast.