What joy to meet with God’s own saints,
In greetings face to face;
We mutually lift our heavy weights,
In love and warm embrace.

In common our pains and gains we share,
Whatever may be our load;
Together we engage in prayer,
Companions on this road.

Our sins and errors we confess,
´Tis grace our common bond,
To live and love and give and bless
In fellowship Beyond.

I took an old hymn, “As the Sun Doth Daily Rise,” and revised it. I couldn’t find a video or audio without instruments, so you can do your own search. Do you prefer the original, or the revised version? Do you see where it might be improved?

When the sun begins to rise,
Brightening all the morning skies,
So to you with one accord
Hearts and voices lift, O Lord.

Day by day provide us food,
For from you come all things good;
Strength for life and limbs afford
From your living bread, O Lord.

Be our guard in sin and strife;
Be the Leader of our life;
Lest from you we stray abroad,
Stay our wayward feet, O Lord.

Living by the Spirit’s grace,
All your holy will to trace
While we daily search your Word,
Truest light impart, O Lord.

Praise to God who knows no limit,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit;
We, your saints, with one accord
Praise your holy name, O Lord.

Do you approach the coming year
With expectation or trembling fear?
With hope and faith in God I face
The day, for I’m awash in grace.
Yes, I am weak, but God is strong,
So when the day is tiresome and long,
Upon his ready power I lean
When crisis spoils the planned routine.
To ponder all the months and days
Of Twenty-One and all its ways,
The mind might panic in alarm,
Did I not lean upon God’s arm.
The Lord alone is absolute,
With him is blessing, peace, and fruit;
In him can no defeat disturb,
For every day and year’s superb.

Why do poets off themselves
Five times more than others do?
Besides the fact that no one reads
Their work, though every soul approves?
To their own self they seek to be true.
On praise alone no poet feeds.

With finer gauge his brain is wired
(Though his is not a greater heart),
With words he seeks to order the world;
In lines and meter is he inspired
To repair what sin has torn apart,
To smooth the Fall that left him gnarled.

What hopeless task! His words lack force
For such a work — No man can win! —
This power can God alone provide.
What poet will seek in God his source?
With spoken light will he begin?
No wonder he choses suicide!

The longer on earth a saint remains,
The stronger grows desire for heaven;
The body feels its aging pains,
And more to God’s own side he’s driven.

The heavier load of life directs
The sight of faith to things above;
To Jesus’ cross my trial connects,
To service the Holy Spirit drove.

Oh, Lord Messiah, come for me!
Break open the clouds with angels’ shout!
The humble soul would soon see
The end of Satan’s and saints’ dispute!


Describe how your difficulties have increased your desire for eternal things.