1
The grace which God bestows on us
Is just His Son in full;
The rich enjoyment of this Christ
Is plenteous, bountiful.
'Tis far too great to comprehend,
Too wondrous to contain:
How we, once children of despair,
God's masterpiece became.
Is just His Son in full;
The rich enjoyment of this Christ
Is plenteous, bountiful.
'Tis far too great to comprehend,
Too wondrous to contain:
How we, once children of despair,
God's masterpiece became.
2
The whole creation now beneath
The weight of bondage sore,
In seeing God's sons manifest
Is freed forevermore.
Th' eternal purpose of our God
Will be full manifest;
The hope of glory now concealed
Is then to all expressed.
The weight of bondage sore,
In seeing God's sons manifest
Is freed forevermore.
Th' eternal purpose of our God
Will be full manifest;
The hope of glory now concealed
Is then to all expressed.
3
The briars will be myrtle trees,
The thorn will be no more,
And peace will reign where war did rage,
The curse will then be o'er.
'Tis then the trees shall clap their hands,
And all the hills shall sing;
This glorious freedom shall God's sons
Thus manifested bring.
The thorn will be no more,
And peace will reign where war did rage,
The curse will then be o'er.
'Tis then the trees shall clap their hands,
And all the hills shall sing;
This glorious freedom shall God's sons
Thus manifested bring.
4
God's deepest work of grace goes on
Each day, though hidden, small,
Until that day, when manifest,
It is revealed to all.
By then God's wrought His finished work:
Himself dispensed to us;
And all creation 'round admires
His product, glorious.
Each day, though hidden, small,
Until that day, when manifest,
It is revealed to all.
By then God's wrought His finished work:
Himself dispensed to us;
And all creation 'round admires
His product, glorious.
5
The angels that before our God
In brightest splendor stand,
Will join the universal praise
To Him for all He's planned.
And of the devil, of his end . . . ?
We'll praise the Lord for how
Just distant smoke is all that's left
Of all that troubles now.
In brightest splendor stand,
Will join the universal praise
To Him for all He's planned.
And of the devil, of his end . . . ?
We'll praise the Lord for how
Just distant smoke is all that's left
Of all that troubles now.
6
So shall we not delight to give
Ourselves in every way,
And let the Lord dispense Himself
Into us more each day;
The grace that we receive each day,
Though hidden oft, and small,
Is God Himself wrought into us,
That day to shine o'er all.
Ourselves in every way,
And let the Lord dispense Himself
Into us more each day;
The grace that we receive each day,
Though hidden oft, and small,
Is God Himself wrought into us,
That day to shine o'er all.
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Storrs, Connecticut, United States
The composer of the tune for this hymn is Richard Storrs Willis. He was an American composer, mainly of hymn music. His best known melody is probably the one called, “Carol. ” This is the standard tune in the United States, though not in Great Britain, of the much loved hymn “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, (1850) with lyrics by Edmond Sears. He was also a music critic and journal editor.
Willis, whose siblings included Nathaniel Parker Willis, (author, poet and editor)
and Fanny Fern, (novelist) was born on January 10, 1819, in Boston, Massachusetts. He attended Chauncey Hall, the Boston Latin School, and Yale College.
Willis went to Germany, where he studied six years under Xavier Schneider, and Maurice Hoffman. After returning to America, He served as a music critic for the New York Tribune, the Albion, and the Musical Times, for which he served as editor for a time. He joined the New York American-Music Association, an organization, which promoted the work of naturalized American composers. He reviewed the organization’s first concert for their second season, held December 30, 1856, in the Musical World, as a “creditable affair, all things considered”.
Richard began his own journal, Once a Month: A Paper Society, Belles-Lettres and Art and published its first issue in January 1862.
He died on May 7, 1900 and is buried at Woodland Cemetery in Detroit.
Brentwood, CA
What a wonderful fact this song speaks forth. Saints should we not delight to give ourselves in every way and let The Lord dispense Himself into us! The grace we receive is God Himself wrought into us, that day to shine over all! Let us all cooperate with this grace!
"by the grace of God I am what I am, His grace unto me did not turn out to be in vain, but on the contrary, I labored more abundantly then all of them, Yet not I, but the grace of God that is with me" 1 Cor. 15:10