Hold Thou My Hand

Hold Thou my hand: so weak I am, and helpless;
I dare not take one step without Thy aid.
Hold Thou my hand: for then, O Loving Savior,
No dread of ill shall make my soul afraid.

Hold Thou my hand: and closer, closer draw me
To Thy dear self, my hope, my joy, my all;
Hold Thou my hand: lest haply I should wander,
And missing Thee, my trembling feet should fall.

Hold Thou my hand: the way is dark before me
Without the sunlight of Thy face divine;
But when by faith I catch its radiant glory,
What heights of joy, what rapturous songs are mine.

-Fanny Jane Crosby

He Hideth My Soul

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
A wonderful Savior to me;
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock,
Where rivers of pleasure I see.

He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand.

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord,
He taketh my burden away;
He holdeth me up and I shall not be moved,
He giveth me strength as my day.

With numberless blessings each moment He crowns,
And, filled with His fulness divine,
I sing in my rapture, oh, glory to God,
For such a Redeemer as mine!

When clothed in His brightness, transported I rise
To meet Him in clouds of the sky,
His perfect salvation, His wonderful love,
I’ll shout with the millions on high.

-Fanny Jane Crosby

All the Way My Savior Leads Me

All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well,
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread,
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! a spring of joy I see,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! a spring of joy I see.

All the way my Savior leads me;
Oh, the fullness of His grace!
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father’s blest embrace.
When my spirit, clothed immortal,
Wings its flight to realms of day,
This my song through endless ages:
Jesus led me all the way,
This my song through endless ages:
Jesus led me all the way.

-Fanny Jane Crosby

Sound the Alarm! Let the Watchman Cry!

Sound the alarm! Let the watchman cry!
Up! for the day of the Lord is nigh;
Who will escape from the wrath to come?
Who have a place in the soul’s bright home?

Sound the alarm, watchman! Sound the alarm!
For the Lord will come with a conqu’ring arm;
And the hosts of sin, as their ranks advance,
Shall wither and fall at His glance.

Sound the alarm! Let the cry go forth,
Swift as the wind, o’er the realms of earth;
Flee to the rock where the soul may hide!
Flee to the rock! in its cleft abide!

Sound the alarm on the mountain’s brow!
Plead with the lost by the wayside now:
Warn them to come and the truth embrace;
Urge them to come and be saved by grace.

Sound the alarm in the youthful ear;
Sound it aloud that the old may hear;
Blow ye the trump while the day-beams last!
Blow ye the trump till the light is past!

-Fanny J. Crosby, in Good as Gold, by Robert Lowry & W. H. Doane (New York: Bigow & Main, 1880).

Tell Me the Story of Jesus

Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word.
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.
Tell how the angels in chorus,
Sang as they welcomed His birth.
“Glory to God in the highest!
Peace and good tidings to earth.”
 
Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word.
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.
 
Fasting alone in the desert,
Tell of the days that are past.
How for our sins He was tempted,
Yet was triumphant at last.
Tell of the years of His labor,
Tell of the sorrow He bore.
He was despised and afflicted,
Homeless, rejected and poor.
 
Tell of the cross where they nailed Him,
Writhing in anguish and pain.
Tell of the grave where they laid Him,
Tell how He liveth again.
Love in that story so tender,
Clearer than ever I see.
Stay, let me weep while you whisper,
Love paid the ransom for me.
 

-Fanny Crosby