Songs Of My Heart - AT THE CROSS

John 11: 25,26 ...I am the Resurrection, and the life; he that believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Believe you this?

Words: Isaac Watts, Hymns and Spir­it­u­al Songs, 1707; Ralph E. Hud­son wrote the re­frain in 1885.

Watts’ fa­ther was Non­con­form­ist im­pris­oned twice for his re­li­gious views. Isaac learned Greek, Latin, and He­brew un­der Mr. Pin­horn, Rec­tor of All Saints, and head­mas­ter of the Gram­mar School in South­amp­ton. Isaac’s taste for verse showed it­self in ear­ly child­hood, and his prom­ise caused a lo­cal doc­tor and other friends to of­fer him a un­i­ver­si­ty ed­u­ca­tion, as­sum­ing he would be or­dained in the Church of Eng­land. How­ev­er, Isaac de­clined and in­stead en­tered a Non­con­for­mist Acad­e­my at Stoke New­ing­ton in 1690, un­der the care of Thom­as Rowe, pas­tor of the In­de­pen­dent cong­re­ga­tion at Gir­dlers’ Hall; Isaac joined this con­gre­ga­tion in 1693.

Watts left the Acad­e­my at age 20 and spent two years at home; it was dur­ing this per­i­od that he wrote the bulk of his Hymns and Spir­it­u­al Songs. They were sung from man­uscripts in the South­amp­ton Cha­pel, and pub­lished 1707-1709.

The next six years of his life were again spent at Stoke New­ing­ton, work­ing as tu­tor to the son of em­i­nent Pur­i­tan John Har­topp. The in­tense stu­dy of these years is re­flect­ed in the the­o­log­ic­al and phil­o­soph­ic­al ma­ter­i­al he sub­se­quent­ly pub­lished.

Watts preached his first ser­mon at age 24. In the next three years, he preached fre­quent­ly, and in 1702 was or­dained as pas­tor of the In­de­pen­dent con­gre­ga­tion in Mark Lane. At that time he moved in­to the house of a Mr. Hollis in the Mi­nor­ies. His health be­gan to fail the next year, and Sam­u­el Price was ap­point­ed as his as­sist­ant in the min­is­try. In 1712, a fe­ver shat­tered his con­sti­tu­tion, and Price be­came co-pas­tor of the con­gre­ga­tion, which had moved to a new cha­pel in Bu­ry Street. It was at this time that Isaac be­came the guest of Sir Thom­as Ab­ney. He lived with Ab­ney (and lat­er Abney’s wi­dow) the rest of his life, main­ly at The­o­balds in Hert­ford­shire, then for 13 years at Stoke New­ing­ton.

THIS SONG has got to be in my top 10 songs of when I think about the Lord, it makes me want to SHOUT!! Knowing what a worm (yes, I said it) I was, and could be again if Jesus Christ were not in my life, brings tears to my eyes. That God loves us all so much that He sacrificed His son for us, for me. The crimes that I have done, the raunchiness of my actions, He paid for with His life. He died/I lived. His Father, my God, Our creator looked at Him and pronounced - GUILTY; God looked at me and said COME, I am forgiven, I am loved and precious in the sight of God through the shed blood of Jesus.

"But drops of grief can ne'er repay the debt of love I owe." No amount of sorrow for my actions can repay for the love that christ showed for me. I am so for real when I tell you Jesus is alive and well, and talks with us each day.

My first book, 'Meet Me At The Cross, One Woman's Testimony' (http://www.lulu.com/content/1911953) tells about going to the cross to meet the Savior. If you make the trip He will surely meet you there. You don't have to prepare, clean up, get straight - Just go with an open heart to recieve. NEVER, NEVER can I go back and take on all the burdens of my life before Christ. Whatever happens good or bad, losses or gains I know I can make it because of Christ.

Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I.

Refrain

At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away,
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day!
___________

Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes to tears.

But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give my self away
’Tis all that I can do.