Luke 12:37

• [Luk 12:37] How Are Thy Servants Blest, O Lord!

  How are Thy servants blest, O Lord! How sure is their defense! Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help Omnipotence. In foreign realms, and lands remote, Supported by Thy care, Through burning climes they pass unhurt, And breathe in tainted air. When by the dreadful tempest borne High on the broken wave, They know Thou art not slow to her, Nor impotent to save. The storm is laid, the winds retire, Obedient to Thy will, The sea, that roars at Thy command, At Thy command is still. From all our griefs and fears, O Lord, Thy mercy sets us free; While in the confidence of prayer Our hearts take hold on Thee. In midst of dangers, fears and death, Thy goodness we adore; We praise Thee for Thy mercies past, And humbly hope for more Our life, while Thou preservest life, A sacrifice shall be; And death, when death shall be our lot, Shall join our souls to Thee.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Luk 12:37] Ye Servants Of The Lord

  Ye servants of the Lord, Each in his office wait, Observant of His heavenly Word, And watchful at His gate. Let all your lamps be bright, And trim the golden flame, Gird up your loins, as in His sight, For awful is His Name. Watch: ’tis your Lord’s command, And while we speak He’s near; Mark the first signal of His hand, And ready all appear. O happy servant he, In such a posture found! He shall His Lord with rapture see, And be with honor crowned. Christ shall the banquet spread With His own royal hand, And raise that faithful servant’s head Amid the angelic band.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

Luke 12:39

• [Luk 12:39] While Life Prolongs Its Precious Light

  While life prolongs its precious light, Mercy is found, and peace is given; But soon, ah soon, approaching night Shall blot out every hope of heaven. While God invites, how blest the day! How sweet the Gospel’s charming sound! Come sinners, haste, O haste away, While yet a pardoning God is found. Soon, borne on time’s most rapid wing Shall death command you to the grave, Before His bar your spirits bring, And none be found to hear or save. And in that land of deep despair No Sabbath’s heavenly light shall rise, No God regard your bitter prayer, No Savior call you to the skies. No wonders to the dead are shown, The wonders of redeeming love; No voice His glorious truth makes known, Nor sings the bliss of climes above. Silence, and solitude, and gloom, In those forgetful realms appear: Deep sorrows fill the dismal tomb, And hope shall never enter there.

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  source: Cyberhymnal