1. Tell me the old, old story
Of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory,
Of Jesus and His love.
Tell me the story simply,
As to a little child;
For I am weak and weary,
And helpless and defiled.
Refrain:
Tell me the old, old story;
Tell me the old, old story,
Tell me the old, old story
Of Jesus and His love.
2. Tell me the story slowly,
That I may take it in –
That wonderful redemption,
God’s remedy for sin.
Tell me the story often,
For I forget so soon;
The early dew of morning
Has passed away at noon.
3. Tell me the same old story
When you have cause to fear
That this world’s empty glory
Is costing me too dear.
Tell me the story always,
If you would really be,
In any time of trouble,
A comforter to me.
1. There comes to my heart one sweet strain,
A glad and a joyous refrain;
I sing it again and again
Sweet peace, the gift of God’s love.
Refrain:
Peace, peace, sweet peace!
Wonderful gift from above!
O wonderful, wonderful peace!
Sweet peace, the gift of God’s love!
2. Thru Christ on the cross peace was made,
My debt by His death was all paid;
No other foundation is laid
For peace, the gift of God’s love.
3. When Jesus as Lord I had crowned,
My heart with this peace did abound;
In Him the rich blessing I found
Sweet peace, the gift of God’s love.
4. In Jesus for peace I abide,
And as I keep close to His side,
There’s nothing but peace doth betide
Sweet peace, the gift of God’s love.
There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in His day;
And there have I, though vile as he,
Washed all my sins away:
Washed all my sins away,
Washed all my sins away;
And there have I, though vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow’r,
Till all the ransomed church of God
Are safe, to sin no more:
Are safe, to sin no more,
Are safe, to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed church of God
Are safe, to sin no more.
E’er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die:
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.
When this poor, lisping, stamm’ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save:
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save,
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save;
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.