Kidung Jemaat

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Hymns

Ecclesiastes 5:12

• [Ecc 5:12] Sweet Is The Work, My God, My King

  Sweet is the work, my God, my King, To praise Thy Name, give thanks and sing, To show Thy love by morning light And talk of all Thy truth at night. Sweet is the day of sacred rest, No mortal cares shall seize my breast. O may my heart in tune be found, Like David’s harp of solemn sound! My heart shall triumph in my Lord And bless His works and bless His Word. Thy works of grace, how bright they shine! How deep Thy counsels, how divine! Fools never raise their thoughts so high; Like brutes they live, like brutes they die; Like grass they flourish, till Thy breath Blast them in everlasting death. But I shall share a glorious part, When grace has well refined my heart; And fresh supplies of joy are shed, Like holy oil, to cheer my head. Sin (my worst enemy before) Shall vex my eyes and ears no more; My inward foes shall all be slain, Nor Satan break my peace again. Then shall I see, and hear, and know All I desired and wished below; And every power find sweet employ In that eternal world of joy. And then what triumphs shall I raise To Thy dear Name through endless days, For in the realms of joy I’ll see Thy face in full felicity.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Ecc 5:12] Work Is Sweet For God Has Blest

  Work is sweet, for God has blest Honest work with quiet rest, Rest below and rest above In the mansions of His love, When the work of life is done, When the battle’s fought and won. Work ye, then, while yet ’tis day, Work ye Christians, while ye may, Work for all that’s great and good, Working for your daily food. Working whilst the golden hours, Health, and strength, and youth are yours. Working not alone for gold, Not the work that’s bought and sold, Not the work that worketh strife, But the working of a life Careless both of good or ill, If ye can but do His will. Working ere the day is gone, Working till your work is done, Not as traffickers at marts, But as fitteth honest hearts, Working till your spirits rest With the spirits of the blest.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

Psalms 127:2

• [Psa 127:2] He Giveth His Beloved Sleep

  Sorrow and care may meet, The tempest cloud may low’r, The surge of sin may beat Upon earth’s troubled shore; God doth His own in safety keep, He giveth His belovèd sleep, He giveth His belovèd sleep. The din of war may roll, With all her raging flight, Grief may oppress the soul, Throughout the weary nigh; God doth His own in safety keep, He giveth His belovèd sleep, He giveth His belovèd sleep. In childhood’s winsome page, In manhood’s joyous bloom, In feebleness and age, In death’s dark gathering gloom, God will His own in safety keep, He giveth His belovèd sleep, He giveth His belovèd sleep.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 127:2] Joy And Light

  Joy and light, joy and light, Over the crystal sea; Come, come, soft and bright, Over the crystal sea. Come on your snowy pinions white, Come in the silent calm of night, Watch when the pale stars keep, Bring the troubled one, Bring the weary one sleep. Love and rest, love and rest, Carol in silver tone; Glad songs, pure and blest, Carol in silver tone. Come from the fadeless flowers that grow, Come from the sparkling streams that flow, Come in the midnight deep, Bring the troubled one, Bring the weary one sleep. Voice divine, voice divine, Speak, and our souls shall hear; Sweet, sweet words are Thine, Speak, and our souls shall hear. Tell of a cloudless region fair, Tell of the many mansions there, Speak to the hearts that weep, Bring the troubled one, Bring the weary one sleep.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 127:2] Of All The Thoughts Of God

  Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward into souls afar, Along the psalmist’s music deep, Now tell me if there any is, For gift or grace surpassing this: “He giveth His belovèd sleep”? What would we give to our beloved? The hero’s heart to be unmoved, The poet’s star tuned harp, to sweep, The patriot’s voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch’s crown, to light the brows? He giveth His belovèd sleep. “Sleep soft, belovèd!” we sometimes say, Who have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His belovèd sleep. His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap; More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His belovèd sleep.

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  source: Cyberhymnal